Beneath
by dreamingfate
Summary: AU: A swordsman with a mysterious, violent past falls for a singer in a run-down swing bar. It changes him in ways he couldn't have imagined. A tale of lonliness, friendship and sexual awakening in the 1960s. Zoro x Sanji/Sanji x Zoro. Explicit yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Suffocating, drenching cold. His body was numb instantly. The water and the sky were so black that he couldn't tell one from the other. Tall waves crashed over his head and filled his mouth and eyes with bitter salt. He struggled but he hadn't enough strength left to resist the raging dark. The waves forced him under into an unseeing, unhearing void.

* * *

_Here's my story_

_It's sad but true_

The faint melody was a familiar one. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there on the park bench, alone except for the unwelcome company of his thoughts. One thing was certain, and that was the numb feeling in his ass. He contemplated moving and going somewhere else.

'_Bout a girl that_

_I once knew_

But there was nowhere else to go. So why not sit here in the dark, aimlessly watching the moths gather around a nearby street lamp? The streets were empty, and no one would come to move him on. He could just sit there all night on that bench and wait for the morning to come. And when it came, he'd decide what to do then.

_She took my love_

_And ran around_

He pushed back his black short-brimmed hat so it covered less of his face, and looked around. This area of town was dead. All the buildings were boarded up, and lined the pavements like hollowed, forgotten shells. The only signs of life were him (and he doubted for a moment whether to even count himself), the moths and the tired-looking swing-bar just down the street.

_With every single_

_Guy in town_

He'd been sitting there for a fair while and not seen a soul coming or going from the place, but once it had gotten dark he'd been able to catch faint strains of music drifting from it. A drink suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

He rose from his seated position for the first time in hours, and was unsurprisingly stiff even for a man of his youth. He flexed his back and shoulders, working out the kinks in his muscles and slipped a hand beneath his long black jacket to encourage some feeling back into his ass. He picked up the long, matt-black metal cylinder he always carried with him, slinging it over his shoulder by the strap, and made down the street to where the light was coming from.

He peered up at the bar's forlorn exterior. Its front would have been gaily painted at one time before sun-aging and peeling took their toll, and outside it there was a red-and-white striped awning sheltering a number of unused tables and chairs. The place was named the "Going Merry". The man raised a sharp-angled eyebrow. Seemed like a stupid name to him, but there were no other bars open. Nothing else was open in this neighbourhood.

Inside, the place was as dead as the streets outside, though the room was large enough for a sizeable number of guests. There was only one other patron that he could see, and he'd already drunk himself into a snoring stupor at a table in the middle. At the opposite side of the room to the bar was a raised platform, on which a group of people were performing for the pleasure of the unconscious alcoholic. At least now he could place what he'd been hearing all evening.

He sidled up to the bar, setting down his cylinder and pulling up a stool. The barman eyed him warily as he dried a wine glass with great care.

"What can I get you?" He asked.

"Bourbon on the rocks" The man replied. He watched as the barman fetched his drink. He was one of the oddest-looking guys he'd ever seen, with his strangely long nose and huge afro, restrained at the back of his head with a tie, but he worked with effortless skill.

"Thanks." He said, as the glass of syrupy brown liquid was placed in front of him.

"I'll add it to your tab." The long-nosed man said, already writing. He supposed that was presumptuous, but wasn't in the mood to make a point. He took a deep swig from the glass, feeling the rich warmth from the liquor infiltrate his lifeless body. "What's your name?" The barman asked, looking at him with pen in hand.

"Zoro." He replied. The other man scribbled his name on the tab and tore it from the pad, placing it beside the cash register. Looking around, Zoro wondered why they had a need for bar tabs at all.

"Tuesdays are quiet." The man offered, as if in answer. He'd said it almost with a resigned sigh, and returned to his diligent glass-drying.

Zoro took another sip.

"Tuesdays aren't the only days though, Usopp." A female voice said, from behind him. He heard the sound of glass clinking, then the woman appeared beside him and passed an armful over the bar to the barman. She turned to Zoro and smiled.

"Things will pick up, Nami!" The barman said, suddenly puffing out his chest. She walked away, muttering, to pointlessly wipe down some already clean tables. He deflated again. "I'm sure of it…"

This was one of those moments, Zoro supposed, where you could either chose to strike up a conversation or sit quiet and say nothing. And he didn't have anything else planned that evening.

"Slow business?" He said.

The barman rolled his eyes and shook his head, placing a glass gently on a shelf above his head. "You've no idea." He said. Zoro thought he had a pretty good idea, though. Usopp came over and leaned on the bar in front of him. "Every night it's dead in here. Nothing but the odd drunkard. We've barely enough to pay the bills, let alone the staff."

"How come? I mean, you've got the liquor, the live music and the company…" Zoro said, motioning behind him at the sleeping man.

Usopp managed a grin, but it faded. "Who knows."

There was a sudden loud 'bang' somewhere in the building. Even the unconscious man stirred a little. A door flew open and out of it stumbled a suited man with a slight figure and jet-black hair. He was caught somewhere between laughing and coughing, wafting his hand through some grey smoke that had followed him.

"What did you do _now?_" The barmaid asked him through gritted teeth, hands on hips.

Over on the platform, the music had stopped and the man in sunglasses behind the piano was getting to his feet. Zoro stared for a moment at his bright-blue hair. A musician thing, he supposed. "Super, I guess that'll be me then," The man said reluctantly.

"Thanks Franky!" The man beamed. Then added: "Sanji! Make me a steak!"

"I'm in the middle of a fucking set you asshole!" Came the singer's response from across the room.

Zoro looked at Usopp. "Who the hell is _that_?"

"That would be our manager."

"Is he even old enough to be a manager?"

Usopp nodded. "Yeah," He said, then tapped the side of his temple with a finger. "In here, not so much."

Zoro laughed. The expression felt foreign, and faded quickly. "Is it always like this?"

The man folded his arms and sighed. "Aaaalways." He said, smiling.

~*~

The place was in a terrible state; wallpaper hung off the walls in great long strips, every room smelled of mould and rotten floorboards peered up forlornly between butchered carpet scraps. The couch was less something for sitting on and more a focus for pity, its misshapen brown form squatting impassively on the floor after years of abuse.

"I'll take it." Zoro told the landlord. The man had to stop himself from rubbing his hands with glee.

When the landlord had left - practically skipping - he stood alone in the front room and stared around. The dusty coffee table, dearly departed sofa, a wooden chair and a wire-framed bed upstairs were the only pieces of furniture in the whole dilapidated rental house. And that suited him fine.

He spent the rest of his afternoon buying new clothes. Two suits, both grey-pinstripe pants and waistcoat matched with a white shirt and black braces. Both identical. He bought a new black coat to go with them, and two throw-over sheets – one for the sofa (because there was no way he was sitting on that thing without one) and one for the bed.

Once home, he changed into one of his new suits and threw his old clothes away in a dustbin round the corner. The blood would only wash out so many times. He pulled off his short-brimmed hat and went to lay it on top of the others in the bin, but changed his mind and replaced it on his head.

The place was as complete as it was ever going to be. He'd cleaned the dust off the table and aired out all the rooms to release the suffocating smell, and the couch didn't look quite so bad now with the deep-blue throw covering it. He sat down to test it. It responded with a deep creaked complaint, and was so soft Zoro wondered if it had in fact eaten all the previous occupants of the building and that was why the place was in such a bad state of repair.

He leaned out of it and examined his new shoes, rubbing a dust-mark off at the toe of one foot.

_ Not bad. _

It was getting late now, and the light was dimming. Then he realised he'd forgotten to get new lightbulbs, and cursed under his breath. He wasn't about to spend the evening alone in the dark again, this time without the moths for company.

He pulled on his new coat and old hat, and headed out with his metal cylinder slung over his shoulder as always.

He walked around for a couple of blocks, fairly certain he'd gotten lost somehow, then became aware that he knew where he was – exactly where he'd been the previous night. The lights were on in the Going Merry, and he could hear the sound of laughter.

He pushed his way into the bar to be met by the flowing refrains of Frank Sinatra.

"_That's life,_

_That's what all the people say,"_

The same collection of people from the previous night were on the stage again; the blue-haired pianist, a very tall and painfully thin guy playing the saxophone and the blond singer with curtained hair.

"_You're riding high in April,_

_Shot down in May,"_

The barman was laughing uproariously at the lot of them as they overplayed their parts, emphasising every movement and note they made.

"_But I don't let it_

_Let it get me down,"_

They were grinning at each other like idiots, and occasionally the singer would have trouble forming the lyrics or just forget them entirely from laughing too hard.

"_I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,  
A poet, a pawn and a king,"_

But regardless, he was still very good. The manager and the barmaid were singing and clapping along with them.

"_Each time I find myself laying flat on my face,  
I just pick myself up and get back in the race,"_

Zoro pulled up the same stool as he had done the previous evening, and turned to watch the rest of the performance.

"_Many times I thought of cutting out  
But my heart won't buy it,_

_But if there's nothing shakin' come this here July  
I'm gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die"_

The ending was a screaming melody of instruments and vocals, each jockeying for position to great effect and rapturous applause from the few people in the bar. Zoro surprised himself by being one of them.

"Bourbon on the rocks?" The barman asked him, with a grin. He nodded.

"I should settle my tab from yesterday," He said, pulling out his wallet.

Usopp waved a dismissive hand at him. "Do it later." He said, and handed Zoro his drink as he slid his wallet back into his pocket. The shot was more generous this time.

There was a scrape as someone pulled up a barstool beside him.

"Oi, Usopp, Bourbon no ice please."

"Coming right up."

There was a sound of rustling paper and cardboard followed by a sharp metallic click and a sort of hiss as the man lit a cigarette. He breathed in deeply and emptied his lungs with a satisfied sigh. "Ah, that feels good."

"You should be careful with those things, you don't want to ruin your voice." Usopp told him, sliding his drink across the bar.

The singer fixed his gaze. "Who are you, my mother?" He said flatly. The barman scowled at him.

"Don't go blaming me when your vocal cords fall out."

"Ah, the worst that'll happen is I'll end up with a rougher baritone." He tested out the bottom end of his range with a series of 'ee's, each lower than the last. "Wouldn't be so bad. Besides, doctors say these are medicinal."

Usopp raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sanji, you were great today!" The barmaid said, winking and stroking the man's chin as she passed.

"Thank you Nami!" He flustered, turning with her as she moved past him until he had his back to the bar. He tilted his head and watched her go, leaning on his elbows. He tapped Zoro on the arm with the back of his hand. "Perks of the job, eh?"

Zoro stared at him flatly for the unwarranted intrusion into his personal space. The man grinned, wiggling his strange curled eyebrow.

"My bad, I'm Sanji." The singer said, holding out his hand.

"Zoro." He replied, shaking it.

"_Sanji!_" Came a yell from the direction of the kitchen. The man's shoulders slumped.

"Does that bastard never tire of eating?" He muttered, sloping off.

"Hey, do you want anything to eat?" Usopp asked Zoro.

He suddenly remembered he hadn't eaten in days. "Yeah, sure."

"Oi Sanji! Make something for our customer as well!" The barman yelled, towelling another glass.

"Sure, whatever." Came the response as the man disappeared through a door.

When Sanji reappeared, it was with steak and mashed potatoes. Zoro's mouth watered like the Niagara Falls at the sight of it, but he restrained himself and ate it slowly, savouring each mouthful. When he was done, the man returned to collect his plate.

"How was it?" He asked.

"Awful." Zoro replied, taking a sip from his Bourbon on the rocks.

"What?" Sanji spat from around his cigarette. "But you fucking ate everything!"

"Of course." Zoro said coolly, fixing the blond man's gaze. "It may have tasted terrible, but I'm not ungrateful enough to leave any."

Sanji just looked at him for a second, then a thought seemed to occur to him.

"_Luffy!_" He yelled. "Did you do anything weird to this meat?"

The manager's head appeared from the kitchen door. The sight of his mouth moving appeared to grate with Sanji, as he bit down on his cigarette in annoyance.

"No!" He cried. "All I did was pour some Tabasco on it."

Sanji looked down at Zoro, who appeared rather flushed.

"_What the hell did you do that for!?_"

"He looked like the kind of guy to like it!"

"Don't decide things like that on your own!" He shouted, and the manager dove back into the kitchen. He turned back to Zoro. "I'm terribly sorry, allow me to make amends." He said, and was gone before Zoro could tell him that he didn't want anything else really. But when Sanji brought him another plate of food he dove into it immediately. This time, it was incredible.

When he was done, Zoro settled his tab, thanked the barman and left. The cold night air hit and he pulled his coat in around him, walking past the Going Merry's frosted window and through the light spilling from the bar into the dark street. He re-traced his steps home, thankful to have a belly full of food and veins full of liquor.

The house was dark and dank, and still smelled of mould. Worse still, he couldn't see and didn't know the lay-out of the house well enough yet to navigate it properly. He fumbled his way into the front room and aimed himself in what he thought was the general direction of the couch. The sharp stab in his shin from an impact with the coffee table told him he was close. He dropped himself onto the soft furnishing and closed his eyes.

~*~

A/N: I wanted this to be a 1960s AU, but I didn't want to carry over a lot of stuff from the 60s such as racism, sexism and homophobia. So I guess this is a 60s AU in more of an aesthetic than realistic quality.

All comments and reviews gratefully received.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

He was drowning. His hands grabbed, but he couldn't reach. The waves were too strong and he was too weak. The sea roared and the black waves smashed into his face over and over, pushing him down. He wriggled desperately and found the surface, losing strength with each effort. He opened his mouth and screamed from the bottom of his lungs, a shrill, wordless cry of desperation. That time, they had found him.

-----------

Waking was not a pleasant sensation most mornings for Zoro, but today was especially horrible. The blue throw-rug covering the couch was plastered to his face from drool, and he'd sunk into it in such a way that it felt like someone had been wringing his spine all night. With a great effort, he rolled over onto his back. The ugly ceiling stared down at him, flaking paint hanging off the stippling like insulting gestures.

Zoro sat up and sighed at his dishevelled clothes and the fact that he'd even slept in his shoes. He trudged up the bare, creaking stairs and changed into his other suit. The single bedroom was coated in awful 1950s wallpaper that carried a thick brown pattern. He noticed a corner hanging off and got a sudden urge to pull at it, but he resisted and went back downstairs.

After a trip into town he came back with some dried foodstuffs (nothing more as the house didn't include a fridge) and a half-dozen light bulbs, which he spent the afternoon getting electrocuted trying to install. But at least it wouldn't be dark tonight.

He walked outside to dispose of some rubbish. Something unseen caught his foot and he smashed to the floor, rolling over in the alley in his one clean suit. He cursed and turned to direct his ire at whatever it was that had caused his trip, then stopped himself. He picked up the object and examined it. A small, weak, mostly brown plant sitting in a terracotta pot. He couldn't figure out why someone would throw it out, the pot was perfectly good.

He threw out his rubbish and carried the pot in with him under his arm. Once inside, having taken it in he wasn't even sure what to do with it, and put it on the sink draining board. The soil it was standing in looked dry, so he gave it some water from the tap. He tried putting it on the windowsill in the kitchen but it was too narrow, and wouldn't get enough light on the coffee table. The front room windowsill would do. Satisfied, he went to sit on the sofa, but instead sat on his brown holdall.

Ah yes, he'd forgotten about that. That was the real reason he'd been into town earlier, to collect it from a safety deposit locker. He unzipped it reluctantly and stared at the contents, then closed it again. He stowed it in the cupboard under the sink where he didn't have to think about it, then went to get his other suit dry-cleaned.

~*~

It was getting colder. Either winter was drawing in or a wind from the northern regions was skipping inland over the ocean. Zoro watched the sun setting over the calm waters from his spot on an uncomfortable bench. He drew the collar of his coat up around his chin to fend of the chill. It was enough to make his eyes water, but he ignored them. The sea wasn't going to force him to look away.

---------

"Hi Usopp."

"Zoro," He nodded, pouring the man a drink without having to take his request.

Zoro removed his coat and seated himself. It was the first time the barman had seen the guy without it. Beneath was a well-tailored and expensive-looking grey pinstriped suit. Compared to most (if not all) of their clientele, he looked very dapper indeed. Then he removed his short-brimmed hat, and Usopp nearly choked. His hair was bright green, and his left ear carried three long dangling earrings.

He noticed Zoro look at him, and realised he must be staring. The man cocked his head to one side and rolled his eyes.

"Look, whatever it is, I've heard it a million times before."

"N-No…" The man stammered, trying to maintain an air of politeness while blatantly staring at Zoro's head, "I've seen hair like that plenty of times, you're not that unusual…"

"Uhuh,"

"How are you today, shitty patron?" The singer-cook said to him, sidling up to the bar and leaning on it.

"Shitty-?"

"No one has ever complained about my food before. Eh? Is that really your hair?" Sanji said, rubbing strands of Zoro's short hair between his fingers.

Zoro batted his hand away. "What, you think I have a toupee?"

"Only because it looks so badly fitted."

Zoro was fully prepared to take offense, but Sanji's grin and Usopp's laughter made it impossible. "How about you go make me another steak, shit-cook."

"Sure. I'll let Luffy deal with it again, shall I?" He said over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

Zoro laughed despite himself.

"Hey, what's in that tube you keep bringing with you?" Usopp asked him, pointing down at Zoro's feet where he knew it would be.

It was a legitimate and innocent question, but it wiped the mirth from the other man's features.

_Just tell them what you always say._

"It's a tube of architectural drawings." He said coolly, watching the barman's expression carefully. Next would come-

"Wow!" He said. "Can I see?"

And then he would say- "Nah, they're top secret, sorry." Sincere smile. Just like always. And no one was the wiser.

"Architectural drawings?" Came Nami's voice behind him. "But it's the wrong size and shape."

_Oh shit._

He turned to her. "I had it specially made."

"Ah, I see." She said, folding the cloth in her hands. But from her expression Zoro could tell she had become suspicious. "Anyway Usopp move over, I need to count up."

He obliged and she sat behind the register, collecting everything from the till and carrying it with her into a back room along with a large green book.

"She's your accountant?"

"Yep," Usopp said, smiling. Zoro thought he might have detected something in that smile. "Anyway, you're an architect?"

"Yeah. I work freelance."

"You doing a job in the city?"

"I haven't got an employer right now."

"Ah…" Usopp thought about this for a moment. "Then how come you don't live on Central Avenue and go drinking with the big shots rather than waste your time in our little bar?" He said, grinning and slinging his towel over his shoulder.

"It suits me better out here." Zoro replied, scratching his temple. "Besides, I wanted to escape from the lifestyle I used to have." That much was true, at least.

"Man, you must be loaded."

The conversation was making him uncomfortable. He drank up and paid his way to a surprised-looking Usopp, and left for home. It was only when he was finally turning over uncomfortably in bed that his stomach reminded him with an angry growl he'd forgotten about his steak.

~*~

"Oh good it's you, shitty marimo." Sanji called sarcastically across the bar as soon as the green-haired man came in, straightening his tie and stalking over to Zoro before he could even take a seat.

_Marimo?_

He recognised the aggression in the man's stature, and readied himself for a fight. Sanji seized him by the shirt and slammed him into the bar.

"Oi, Sanji!" Usopp protested.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, ordering a steak and not eating it?" He shouted into Zoro's face.

Zoro's mind clicked into that familiar place. That same sickening calm descended, and shut out all unnecessary stimuli. In his mind, it was just him and Sanji, holding him, arguing at him. He reached back to his metal cylinder, as he had done a thousand times before in situations like this.

But for the first time in his life he snapped out of it. His hand moved away from the screw top of the cylinder and instead to the hands that held him, brushing them off. He pushed Sanji away, to his great annoyance. "What's it to you anyway?"

Sanji straightened up, brushing down his black suit and looking at Zoro with contempt. "Any man who can't recognise the importance of food isn't worth shit." He said, and walked off.

"Don't mind him." Usopp muttered. "He's just a little sensitive when it comes to food. He had to fend for himself for a bit when he was young."

Zoro watched Sanji in the mirrored surface behind the bar as he stepped up to the platform, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with the microphone stand. He watched him talk and laugh with the other two men that always accompanied him. Zoro swirled the remaining Bourbon in his glass and drained it, feeling a weighty chill press against his lips as ice cubes slid down to meet his mouth. Usopp poured him another.

The band played. The singer had an easy charm and a voice that could flow seamlessly between genres. With any justice, the three of them together should have packed the bar to the rafters with people, but it was just as empty as it had always been.

When Zoro left the bar Sanji was outside in the cool evening, getting some fresh air. Fresh air and nicotine. Zoro walked past him, feeling his glare. He stopped and leaned against the wall beside him.

"Did it go to waste?" He asked.

"No, Luffy ate it."

"Ah, so I don't have to feel guilty then."

Sanji looked at him. "You still owe me an apology, bastard." He said, frowning.

"Yeah you're right, I do." Zoro replied, walking away.

"Oi!" He heard Sanji yell behind him. "At least _make _the apology you freakin' asshole!"

He felt himself grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Again. Night after night the dark waters would come for him, seeping through cracks in the happiest of dreams to take him and drown him, to suffocate his screams and murder him. The nightmares happened so often he had become used to them, almost accepting his fate when the time came. But it had been a long time since he'd had one that bad. Bad enough to leave him shivering and sweating in the dark from the fear of it. It had been a long time since he'd dreamt of her.

--------------

"So you must be loaded."

The barmaid was smiling wantonly at him, leaning over the bar towards him with her arms precisely positioned to provide maximum cleavage. Zoro stared back at her flatly over his drink. He pulled the glass away from his lips. "How'd you figure that?"

"You dress well, have good taste in liquor and you plan buildings for a living." She winked.

"What do you want?"

She shifted her position and all her flirtatious energy dissipated. She seemed vaguely irritated that her charms had been rebuked. "Invest. In the bar." She said simply. "We need money."

He could tell she was talking about it in such a way that the others wouldn't over-hear their conversation.

"I don't have any." He told her, taking a sip.

She sighed dejectedly, pushing her red hair back behind her ear. "It wasn't always like this." She said, staring out over the establishment towards the assembling band. "Most of the time this place felt far too small. Now we're rattling around in here like pennies in a tin."

"What changed?"

"People stopped coming. The money dried up, and we're all that's left. We all try to stay positive, but the books haven't balanced for a good while." She leaned on the bar and rested her chin in her palms. Over on the platform the blue-haired pianist and the tall, skinny guy had started to warm up, and the wafting strains of upbeat music felt strangely out of place. "Won't be long 'til we have to close."

She had the same resigned sadness they all did. Everyone except the Going Merry's manager, who was either completely oblivious to their situation or ridiculously carefree. As Zoro was searching desperately for a way to break the mood, someone new entered the bar and seated themselves a few stools away.

"What can I get you?" The barmaid asked him, a smile in her voice.

"I don't want anything to drink." Came the reply, on harsh tones like crushed glass. It piqued Zoro's interest.

"Something to eat then…?" She said, sounding unsure but maintaining a breezy attitude.

"I don't want anything to eat."

He was a big guy. Dressed in a well-fitted brown suit that emphasised the width of his enormous shoulders and the menace of his shaven head, he even managed to sit in a way that commanded deference. Everything about him felt sharp, even his deep voice. He had the kind of oppressive presence that had Zoro reaching for his architectural drawings.

"You know what I want." He growled, and lunged across the bar.

He stopped, hand half-way to Nami's throat. She jerked back with a gasp against the bar's shelves, sending decanters and bottles crashing and spilling onto the floor. He could feel something sharp and unexpected pressed to his neck. He followed the line of it with his eyes up to the hands of the green-haired man sitting beside him.

He looked cool and unhurried. The man couldn't quite place where the weapon had suddenly sprung from, but the only thing he could do now was back down. He pulled his hand back slowly and placed it on his knee, keeping the gaze of the man who had a blade held against him. Impressively, the swordsman didn't waver in the slightest. A professional.

They came to a silent agreement, and the edge of the blade moved fractionally away from his windpipe.

Zoro watched the man carefully. To his surprise he began casting his eyes around the room. At first Zoro was irritated that he wasn't being taken seriously, but then the focus of his awareness shifted and he realised that the whole bar was quiet and still. No music, no shocked expressions other than the barmaid's. Everyone in the whole place was fixed on the brown-suited man with ill intent. The musicians. The singer-cook. The manager. Especially the manager. Even the barman, though his knees were shaking.

The man got up carefully from the stool, the sound of it grating against the tiled floor punctuating the thick atmosphere. Standing fully, he was massive. He held his hands at his sides, calmly fisted. He glanced sideways at Zoro.

"Crocodile wants what's owed him." He said, in deep, measured tones. "Either you give this place up, or you lose it. The choice is yours."

"Like I've told him before," The manager replied, stepping forward and rolling up his shirt-sleeve. "If he wants to take it, he can come and try. I won't give him anything." Zoro found the sincere conviction in his expression odd. Such a small guy standing up to a monster as though it would be an easy win.

The huge guy's mouth pinched up at one corner as he regarded the slight figure of the man opposing him. "No." He sneered. "You can give him nothing, but he'll take everything."

He turned his back to Zoro's blade and walked out of the Going Merry into the final display of the setting sun.

"Who was that guy?" The manager said, looking confused.

"Some hired goon." The singer said, sucking on his cigarette.

"Calls himself 'Mister One', I believe." Said the thin musician with the saxophone still slung around his neck, as he made his way back to the platform.

"Man whatever, fuck 'im." Said the pianist, punching a large fore-arm into the air. "Let's play some tunes!"

"You ok?" Zoro asked Nami, sheathing his katana and peering over the bar. She was already picking up the mess she'd made, salvaging bottles where she could.

"I'm fine." She replied, with an irritated tone.

"Oi." Someone said behind him. He turned around. The singer was glaring at him. "If you'd let him so much as _touch_ her I'd be filleting your ass right now." He said, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. Zoro made to retort, but he was cut off. "But any protector of a lady is alright by me. I forgive you."

"You _forgive _me?"

"For the steak."

He was about to launch into an argument when he noticed Usopp inspecting the contents of his open metal cylinder. "You lied! There aren't any architectural plans in here,"

"You an idiot?" The singer told him from around his cigarette.

"Shut up Sanji, I believed him, alright?"

Zoro grabbed the tube from Usopp. "Don't go poking around in other people's stuff." He said. Sanji snatched the tube from him, and shook it.

"Oh? There's two more in here. Why'd you need a spare?"

"It's not a _spare_-"

Sanji gave him the same look he might give an exceptionally slow child. "I fail to see how you could use three of these things without the use of three arms." He said. "Unless there's one of those in here too…" He added, shaking the cylinder again.

Zoro glared at him and snatched the tube back, drawing the other two katana and slipping the third between his teeth. Sanji stared at him, then burst into fits of laughter. Usopp too, but he was hiding it behind his palm at least. Zoro felt a blush form on his cheeks, and decided to demonstrate his technique. He rounded on the singer instantly, expecting to catch him off-guard.

But he had underestimated the other man, and his katana were brushed effortlessly away with a lightning-speed kick. Zoro had to admit, it was impressive. Sanji held his gaze, body ready for another attack. Zoro grinned and sheathed his blades.

"Fancy a drink?" He said.

--------------

"This one's Wadou." Zoro explained, drawing out the katana with the white sheath.

"They have names?" Said Sanji, sounding incredulous.

"Yes."

"Like imaginary friends?"

"Fuck you asshole, you're the one that asked…"

"You're right, I'm sorry." Sanji said, putting on his best 'serious' face.

"I don't think I'm in the mood for this any more."

Sanji pulled at his cheek. "Ehh? You're pouting?"

Zoro slapped his hand away. "You're so fucking annoying."

The other man grinned as though he'd won something.

~*~

The second time he'd almost died had been a lot like the first. He'd been unceremonially returned to the sea by a bunch of pissed-off gangters who were a bit displeased about him trying to top them. They'd tied him to a ship's anchor and dumped him over the edge in stormy weather out at sea, thinking that there'd be no way he could survive.

As he plummeted down to the sea floor a small part of him supposed it was both fitting and ironic that he went this way. Nothing would be lost if he died. There was no one to miss him, and no one he wanted to see again. At least he left no unfinished business. He resigned himself to it and stopped struggling, letting the weight drag him along. He already felt that he'd lived too long.

Then, with what felt like a cruel twist of fate, the rope holding him to the anchor frayed and detached, freeing him. He was on the verge of death and considered just going along with it, but his survival instincts kicked in and he made an almighty dash for the surface, breaking it and heaving great lung-fulls of air into his aching body.

It had crossed his mind that he might still die; he could have easily drowned with the waves as rough as they were. Rough like that night sixteen years ago. But he wasn't as inexperienced or as weak as he used to be. When he eventually dragged himself ashore he lay panting on the beach, soaked and chilled but alive. He still wondered whether being alive was necessarily a good thing.

* * *

Usopp was pissed, he could tell. He wasn't trying to make conversation, and his drying of glasses was far more vigorous than usual. In fact, he was all but ignoring Zoro completely. Behind them, the barmaid and the singer could be heard flirting outrageously.

"So what do you _really _do for a living?" He scowled. "Not that I'll believe you, whatever you say."

Zoro considered his answer. "What if I say: 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you'?"

Usopp finished drying his glass and placed it on a shelf. Then he suddenly sprang into a martial arts posture, like something from a kung-fu movie, brandishing his towel as though it was a pair of nunchucks. "I-I'm not afraid, you can say whatever you want!"

Zoro felt a grin cross his features, and he took a deep swig from his Bourbon on the rocks.

"Thinking you're so cool…" Usopp muttered, and returned to staring out at the same spot he had been for a large portion of the evening. Zoro realised he'd been watching the flirtations over by the platform. His body language changed from a sort of slumped hunch to standing straight, and in the mirrored back of the bar Zoro could see why.

The barmaid strutted over and placed some glasses on the bar. She smoothed down her red dress and smiled at Usopp, but he didn't meet her eye. "Thanks Nami." He said, offering her the briefest of glances.

Her expression faltered. "No problem." She said, and walked back to where the band were assembling.

"She's wearing a new dress today." Zoro observed.

"Yeah." Usopp muttered, looking across the bar to where she was standing. "She looks great."

"Don't you think you should be telling her that rather than me?"

Usopp let out a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "What would a woman like that want with a guy like me?"

"If you don't do anything you'll regret it. Trust me, there's a million things I wish I could do over."

~*~

"I've got it!" Usopp exclaimed, leaping from his seat and planting his hands on the table. The gathered Going Merry staff looked to him expectantly.

An emergency meeting had been called to discuss the dire financial situation the little bar was in. They had done everything they could to reduce overheads; Luffy was paid in food (in fact, that arrangement was probably more convenient), Sanji was living off what he could from the vegetable garden at the back of the bar, Franky and Brooke took no pay and came in when they had free time to lend a hand, and Usopp and Nami were surviving on meagre wages. But despite all their efforts things hadn't improved, and now they needed to talk seriously about what they could do to turn around the Merry's fortunes before the bar had to close.

Zoro was still puzzling over why he'd been invited. Or rather, less 'invited' and more 'dragged into the meeting by Luffy'. Maybe he counted because he was pretty much their only customer, so held importance.

The faces of many of those gathered at the table wore a multitude of expressions, from worn and weary to quiet, robust resolve. Now, all eyes were fixed on Usopp, eager to learn of his brilliant plan.

"Advertising." He said, simply.

The idea took a moment to settle in. Sanji crossed his feet leisurely on top of the table beside Zoro and lit a cigarette, letting the smoke trail lazily from his mouth.

"Great idea," Nami offered, voice leaden with sarcasm. "If we had any money to advertise, that is."

Usopp felt his master-plan cave in around his ears, and sat down again.

"It's not such a bad idea." Zoro said. "I've got some favours I could call in…"

The manager rubbed his chin with one finger, and looked deep in thought. "So it's some kind of _mystery _plan." He said, eventually.

Zoro could have kicked himself. His mouth had worked faster than his brain, and the helpful suggestions were off the tip of his tongue before he could rein them in. Call in some favours? In a town he'd only just arrived in? It was hardly likely they'd believe that for long, even if they were buying it for the meantime. He had inadvertently placed himself in all kinds of possible awkward situations just for running his mouth.

_Let us know who did all this, we've gotta thank them!_

_ How do you have so many contacts in the advertising industry?_

_ If that's your speciality, why are you so secretive about what you do? _

Why had he even offered any help in the first place? Did he feel indebted somehow for them including him in their little meeting? And now he had to figure out how the hell he was going to single-handedly sort their advertising strategy. He clenched his jaw in self- annoyance and stalked home.

-------------

A week later, he brought them the results of his efforts. 1000 beautifully-designed black-and-white posters featuring the front of the Going Merry, its location and the tag line "The Place for Live Music!". They were amazed, and grateful. They all wanted to know just how he'd done it, and just who were these friends of his that had been so helpful. He sidestepped the questions and the thanks with the same practiced skill, and they set out to plaster the town.

As he was placing the last poster he felt a sense of accomplishment. An accomplishment that was grounded in work that didn't involve bloodshed, that didn't end with another death at his hands; an accomplishment that was his and theirs and no one else's. He stood back and admired the poster, then leant in to plaster down an errant corner that was curling up. Alone on the quiet street with the sun setting behind him, Zoro smiled without difficulty for the first time in years.

~*~

The Going Merry was heaving with punters. Zoro had to persuade his way through the crowds as politely as possible, occasionally resorting to a good-natured shove where necessary. Usopp and Nami were rushed off their feet behind the bar, and the people around it clamoured for their attention. They had been joined by another; a large, hairy guy with a strange face who seemed to be entirely out of his depth, but was doing his best despite the stress showing in his expression.

He shouldered his way to the bar, and Nami greeted him with a warm smile.

"Chopper!" She shouted to the new guy over the commotion. "This is Zoro, he's our knight in shining armour." She winked. Zoro blushed and looked uncomfortable, scratching the back of his head.

"Hi!" The man said, in the most oddly high-pitched voice for his broad stature. Zoro took his drink and was shooed away from the bar by Usopp to let more people through.

Being surrounded by so many merry people was an unusual experience. Normally he only found himself among such a large crowd when the people involved were brawling. Having been dispatched from the safe haven of the bar, he was left marooned in a sea of bodies with no idea what to do with himself. At first he stood in that position, then became irritated with the constant flow of people around him and decided to move out of what appeared to be the main thoroughfare. The people around him jostled and shoved, laughing and talking with no regard for him whatsoever. He nearly spilled his drink twice, then decided to hoist it above the crowd where it couldn't be slammed into by any drunken fools. He made his way to the side of the room and took a breath.

The advertising had certainly worked, but it seemed that the drink hadn't been the only draw. Everyone was orientated towards the little performance area opposite the bar. It looked as though the band would get some exposure at last.

As he watched the people, swirling and mobbing and talking excitedly, he felt an odd sense of loneliness take hold. It was like looking through a window at the lives of other people as they loved and laughed; a world away from his own. He wanted to sit at the bar and talk to Usopp, to laugh with Nami at the manager as he fought for food with his subordinates, even banter with the shitty singer-cook. He considered leaving and coming back tomorrow when things were quieter.

Then came a few brushed chords from the piano, and the room hushed. In that instant he became one of them; one of the crowd, absorbed and tied to them as they were tied to each other with the same purpose - to watch the show.

The blue-haired pianist was performing some impressive but almost half-hearted manoeuvres on the keys, playing without much volume. He looked across at the tall, thin guy and nodded. Then they started in earnest, slamming the notes from the piano and blaring them from the sax. From what Zoro could tell there was no scripted tune behind it, they were just jamming. The crowd loved it, cheering and whooping along as the melodies became more intense and complex. He smiled with them, feeling the draw of the moment.

Over on the other side of the room people were parting to let someone through. Zoro craned his neck to see. Then Sanji appeared on the stage, flustered and out of breath. He exchanged a few words with Franky and Brooke and they nodded to him, drawing a close to their upbeat symphony.

Sanji stepped to the front of the small podium and made some adjustments to the height of the microphone. "Good evening." He said, in his best 'sultry' voice, pointing and winking to a group of ladies towards the middle of the gathered mass. He was rewarded with a few giggles and bashful responses. He leaned away from the microphone as Brooke whispered something in his ear, and nodded. Zoro guessed they were telling him a song choice.

"This is _the Wanderer._"

His announcement was met with cheers and shouts, and he pulled the mic away and looked down with a smile on his face in a gesture Zoro guessed might have been delighted embarrassment.

As the two musicians began the intro, Sanji kept his head down, his blond hair falling forward to disguise his features. His hands gripped the mic stand and the toe of his foot beat the podium in time to the music. He appeared almost bashful, as though the sudden attention was too much to take.

And then he lifted his head to sing, his lips parted in a broad smile, flicking his hair back over just one eye, and commanded the microphone.

"_Well I'm the type of guy who'll never settle down,_

_ Where pretty girls are, well, you know that I'm around,"_

He was amazing. The crowd clapped and cheered, and he revelled in it.

_"I kiss 'em and I love 'em, cause to me they're all the same,_

_I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em, they don't even know my name,"_

Zoro had known before that he was good, but he hadn't appreciated just _how _good. He took a deep swig from his glass, taking care not to get jolted by one of the passers-by, and looked around. Everyone in the room was in his thrall, even those by the bar (much to the apparent irritation of the bar staff).

"_Oh well I roam from town to town,  
I go through life without a care,_

_'Til I'm as happy as a clown  
With my two fists of iron and I'm going nowhere,"_

He certainly looked to be enjoying himself, tapping his foot, clapping and grinning like an idiot.

"_And I'm a wanderer, yeah, a wanderer  
I roam around, around, around, around,"_

He leant the microphone away from him as Franky and Brooke hit out the instrumental solo, smiling at various people in the audience. They met the ending with rapturous applause.

Sanji turned and clapped at the other two, and they paid him their acknowledgements. "Thank you," He said to the crowd, brushing back his hair. They were already demanding more.

Brooke tapped a rhythm into the platform with his heel, and Franky nodded, striking up the piano. Another round of cheers went up.

"_As I walk along,  
I wonder what went wrong,  
With our love, a love that was so strong,"_

Zoro wondered how well he'd cope with the refrain. Sanji nailed it, pulling the mic free from the stand and raising it, tilting his head back slightly to let his voice carry from his throat.

"_I'm a-walkin' in the rain,  
Tears are fallin' and I feel the pain,  
Wishin' you were here by me,  
To end this misery,"_

And then Zoro started to notice things about him. Small, insignificant things like the line of his jaw.

"_Yes, and I wonder,"_

The movement of his lips and the bob of the lump in his throat.

"_Where she will stay,"_

The way his shirt lay on his shoulders, restrained to his chest by black bracers.

"_My little runaway,"_

The rhythm of his foot and the sway of his hips.

He took a large gulp from the glass. It was watery and gross after all the ice had melted into it. He decided he needed another, and made his way back to the bar. It was easier now that everyone was transfixed on the band, but the bar itself was still packed. He couldn't even see Usopp, Nami or the hairy guy.

Zoro changed his mind, suddenly finding the whole experience stifling. He set his glass on the nearest table and returned to his spot against the wall, folding his arms. Whether or not the volume of custom was good for him, it was definitely good for the Merry.

When the band had finally finished the crowd demanded an encore. They got Sam Cooke's Twisting the Night Away.

Zoro spent a large portion of the evening in a coldly familiar state of mind. He was the only still figure amongst the other revellers, blending into the background and making himself invisible. From that position he could observe. He watched the gathered people carefully, coolly assessing each individual. This was what he always did when he was surrounded. A habit from being in his line of work – you had to know where to strike first if the necessity arose.

For the most part he could find nothing suspicious or anything that triggered his honed senses. Just a group of honest people getting together in the name of fun. But he selected his mark nonetheless. A neatly-dressed man surrounded by other neatly-dressed and well-presented men, appearing to enjoy themselves in a more restrained manner. If it was going to start anywhere, Zoro decided, it would start with that group.

He watched them carefully, discreetly, whilst keeping an eye on almost everyone else in the room in case circumstances shifted. Plotting and re-thinking strategies for execution, escape and minimal casualty.

Then he sighed and rubbed his temple. He definitely wasn't a people person, unlike the singer or the other band members who were enjoying a bit of celebrity as they took drinks at the bar. People thanked them as they left, and vowed to come again. The steady stream of people leaving turned to a trickle once almost everyone was gone. Zoro could finally get a seat at the bar.

The Going Merry staff were in fine spirits, laughing and joking, offering several rounds of 'cheers' to their change of fortune and wishing farewell to their days of meagre living. Franky noticed him coming over and pulled out a barstool for him, clapping him roughly on the back once he was seated.

"All thanks to you," He said, as the others continued their conversation.

"Really, it was nothing." Zoro replied. Franky grinned.

The rest of the evening was spent in their company. For the most part Zoro sat and listened, hearing their stories. He was unconvinced by most of Usopp's, unlike the large hairy guy with the high-pitched voice who seemed to hang on every word of his ridiculous tales. Chopper, he remembered. A doctor at the City General who'd treated Luffy for one of various ailments, and become a friend. Zoro also learned that the manager was frequently involved in physical altercations, so they saw Chopper a lot.

Franky and Brook weren't in a band with Sanji, they had an arrangement with another group but accompanied him when they could. Nami used to be involved in petty theft to pay off a huge family debt and had once tried to empty the registers at the Going Merry, only to be tracked down by Luffy and the rest who then 'settled' things in their own way.

Zoro stared down at the manager, who was sleeping fitfully on the bar's floor after a huge and delicious celebratory meal prepared by the singer-cook. He didn't look like much, but then Zoro knew looks could be deceiving.

"I'm going to head off now, night everyone." Nami announced, smiling sleepily.

"I'm headed your way, I'll walk you home." Usopp said, to the apparent annoyance of Sanji. Chopper left not long after.

Franky and Brook stayed for another drink or two, then made their excuses. They dragged Luffy along with them.

"I should go too." Zoro said, getting up.

Sanji thrust an arm across his chest and pushed him back into his seat. "Like hell you will! I feel far too good to quit drinking now, and I'm not doing it by myself." He poured the remains of the Bourbon bottle into Zoro's glass.

"What the hell! That's way too much!" He protested, staring at the liquid level as Sanji poured himself a red wine.

"What's wrong, can't handle your liquor?"

Zoro glared at him and Sanji smirked, lighting another cigarette. He leaned back against his chair and eyed Zoro carefully. Zoro stared back. Sanji's shirt was undone to the third button and his cheeks were blushed from the alcohol.

"Well, we heard a lot about each other, but not all that much about you." He said.

"What's your point?"

Sanji snorted. "My point is, who are you, and where the hell did you come from? Bastard…" He added, for good measure.

Zoro took a sip from his huge glass of Bourbon. "You first." He said

Sanji looked annoyed. "I asked _you_, asshole." He replied, prodding Zoro's elbow clumsily with his heel. "Well, whatever. We've got to start somewhere, eh?" He reached over the table and pulled the ashtray closer. Zoro suddenly wondered why he had waited until that point to do it when he'd been smoking all evening, then realised it probably had something to do with Nami's cleavage.

"This place might not look like much now, but it used to be a restaurant." He said. "My dad owned it. Well, he wasn't my real dad, but that's another thing- anyway, it was one of the best in town. I was raised here. Cooked along with the rest of them when I was old enough." He looked around the room, reliving it. He pursed his lips and examined the cigarette between his fingers. "Then he died, and the place fell apart." He shot a look across at Zoro. "Why the hell am I telling you all this?" He said, taking another drag.

"Fucked if I know."

"If I wasn't so drunk I'd kick your fucking ass, rude piece-of-shit bastard."

Zoro grinned and took another swig of cool liquid. Sanji exhaled.

"But I've started so I might as well fucking finish." He sighed. "We couldn't hold it together without him. None of us had the heart for it any more. It would have collapsed entirely without Luffy."

"He's an interesting guy, no doubt about that," Zoro said.

"You've no idea." Sanji said, smiling around his cigarette. "Everyone else just sort of gathered around him, like he has some kind of magnetism. It's weird." He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked across at Zoro. "Your turn." He said.

Zoro shifted in his chair and inspected the glass. "Let's just say I've spent my life doing something I'm not proud of, and I'm trying to distance myself from it." He muttered.

"The hell is that?" Sanji growled, apparently unsatisfied with his answer. "That doesn't tell me anything!"

"I know." He grinned.

Sanji subbed his cigarette out angrily in the ashtray. "Fucking three-swords moron. Drink up and get the hell out."

Zoro necked the rest of the Bourbon, disguising the urge to choke at the burning in his throat, and stood. He made to move things from the table to the bar, but Sanji grabbed his arm out of the way. His hand felt warm, and the sensation lingered even when the contact dissolved.

"Leave it 'til tomorrow, we'll only break things if we try packing stuff up when we're wasted."

Zoro agreed. They stumbled outside and Sanji locked the door behind them after turning off the lights. It took a moment, but the cold of the evening filtered through Zoro's long black coat to his skin. He looked over at Sanji, and watched the breath curling from his mouth.

"Fucking hell it's cold," The singer said, tucking his hands into his armpits and shifting from foot to foot. The drunken blush still lit his cheeks.

"You want my coat?" Zoro said, only half-joking.

Sanji shot him a scornful look. "Like I'm some woman?"

"Well, whatever." He said, scratching the back of his head. The world lurched suddenly beneath him, and he stumbled. That last glass of Bourbon was taking its effect.

He heard Sanji laugh at him.

"You're drunk, shithead." He mocked.

"Oh?" Zoro said, lunging at the singer with a huge grin on his face and knocking the other off-balance. "Looks like I ain't the only one."

"You know," Sanji said, leaning on Zoro's shoulder. "I think I hate you."

Zoro smiled at him. "Likewise."

They shook hands. Zoro's fingers lingered on Sanji's as they parted the gesture, but the singer hadn't noticed. _Shit,_ Zoro thought. _I really am drunk._ Sanji set off down the road, and Zoro followed him.

"Ok." Sanji said, turning and suddenly full of purpose. He pointed at Zoro. "The others are too polite to ask, but I wanna know. Why the hell is your hair green?"

Zoro laughed, but Sanji maintained his serious expression.

"Fucked if I know." He grinned, shrugging. He walked on. Sanji caught up with him, still staring. He felt the singer's hand catch his arm and persuade him to a stop. He reached up and pulled at Zoro's hair, inspecting it. Then he ran his fingers through it. Zoro gave him a shove. "What? I ain't some museum exhibit."

"Fuck, whatever." Sanji muttered, liberating a cigarette from his packet with some difficulty under the strain of the alcohol in his system, and fumbled a match out of his pocket. He stopped to strike it on the bottom of his shoe, but couldn't balance on one leg long enough to complete the process. "Fucking…" He said, frustrated. Then he noticed Zoro laughing at him up the road. He cursed under his breath and persisted with the exercise. The match snapped. He cursed again, flinging the thing away and fetching a new one.

"Look, let me do it if you can't even fucking stand." Zoro was almost giggling. Sanji pushed him away and looked for another suitable surface that wasn't the bottom of his foot. Zoro grabbed the match from him, and then held Sanji's foot so that he had to use both hands to steady himself against Zoro's body. He would have complained had he not been afraid of losing the cigarette from his lips.

Zoro straightened, the match finally lit. Sanji held onto him until he could inhale the sweet nicotine he craved. Zoro flung the match away, still smiling, and they continued up the road.

After a few laboured paces Sanji stopped again. Zoro was about to ridicule him but noticed he was transfixed with something. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, and exhaled, staring up at a brightly-lit billboard. He smiled and gave a small, resigned laugh, pointing at it.

Zoro looked where he was pointing. An advert for some recording company. He looked back at Sanji, none the wiser.

"All Blues." The man said. "Best production company in the whole damn country." He smiled over at Zoro, genuinely for the first time. "It may be a pipe dream, but it's still a dream, eh? A man without one is an empty soul."

He walked past, and Zoro watched him go. He started to sing, his voice rich and sweet in the still, cool night air.

"_Georgia, Georgia,  
The whole day through,  
Just an old sweet song,  
Keeps Georgia on my mind,_

Ah shit I forgot the next bit…" He said, turning back to Zoro and holding up a finger. He waved it vigorously. "Oh wait!

"_I said Georgia  
Georgia  
A song of you,_

_Comes sweet and dear_ …oh wait, that's not right  
_Comes as sweet and clear  
As moonlight through the pines_."

He unfolded his arms as though the dark street was his audience.  
_"Other arms reach out to me  
Other eyes smile tenderly  
Still in peaceful dreams I see  
The road leads back to you…"_ He trailed off and dropped his cigarette, grinding it

under his shoe and looking around. "Where the hell are we?

"What are you asking me for?"

"I was following you!"

-------------

When Zoro eventually reached home he paid the front room no attention, heading straight upstairs. He placed his metal cylinder down beside the metal-framed bed, and noticed the corner of wallpaper he'd wanted to pull at the other day.

He hesitated, knowing he shouldn't, but did it anyway. It peeled back easily, about half-an-inch or so. The noise and the feeling were satisfying. He peeled back more. Now it was practically a flap, and he decided it couldn't be left like that. More and more of it came free, until it was all the way to the end of the strip. Beneath it was a bright red print from the 1920s. He tugged on it and the whole strip came loose, the ceiling-end floating to the floor. He wondered absently about what to tell the landlord.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

It tasted like someone had taken a crap in his mouth, which itself felt rather more like a desiccated desert cave inhabited by a sluggish scaled lizard than it did part of his face. He moved his jaw slightly and his lips cracked in protest but eventually closed. He chewed on his tongue to try and work some saliva into the parts of his mouth that had dried out during the drunken snoring.

Hangovers were always unpleasant, but it felt as though this one might be particularly bad. Zoro opened the one eye that wasn't pressed to the bed and wondered if he might still be drunk. On the positive side at least he hadn't vomited. Yet. His body gave him the distinct impression things might change when he started to move. Slowly surfacing, he became aware that he'd managed to undress himself but hadn't quite made it into bed properly, instead settling for a naked sprawl across the furniture. He considered shifting and imagined wrapping up in the nice warm spread beneath him, but it seemed like entirely too much effort.

After lying there for another good five minutes, naked and immobile, he decided it was time to try moving. He rolled over slowly, separating himself from the well-established patch of drool that had cemented his cheek to the covers and getting a face full of sun. He screwed his eyes shut and manoeuvred out of it, twisting his body until he eventually found the pillow. He kept his eyes closed and pulled the covers over the top of him, then waited for the world and his stomach to stop lurching in different directions. Unkind parts of his subconscious decided that this would be a good time to remind him of all he'd drunk the night before, and he almost retched at the thought of that full – and now empty - bottle of bourbon.

If the stupid cook-singer-whatever hadn't decanted nearly half of it into his glass at once he would have felt fine this morning. More or less. He half-grinned internally at the thought that the guy'd probably be feeling pretty ropey himself this morning after all that red wine.

He lay there for a while longer, until eventually his curiosity in the time of day drove him from the warm bed. Though it wasn't as though he had anything important to be up for. Half-past twelve. Could be worse, he supposed.

He made his way along the landing to the bathroom, feeling the unpleasant caresses of bare, mouldered floorboards against the soles of his feet. When the sensation was superseded by mouldered floortiles, and he knew he had reached the bathroom. His head throbbed in protest at each movement his tired body made. He sighed and leaned on the sink to peer in the bathroom mirror. His reflection looked rough, with dark circles under his eyes and dried saliva printed onto his cheek.

He padded over to the bath and turned on the shower, drawing the curtain across and adjusting the temperature from behind it like a safe-cracker. He closed the door to keep in the heat. He'd tried very hard to ignore it, but the house was still deathly cold and sickeningly damp. The hairs on his body stood on end and pimpled his smooth dusk-brushed skin, and he brought a hand to his neck to persuade them down.

The room had filled with steam, and he finally stepped beyond the curtain into the shower. It was bliss. He'd set it so that it would feel too warm at first but then exquisite once you got used to the temperature. He stepped into it front-on, letting the water flow first over his open palms and down his arms, then forward so that the focus of the diffused jet was his chest. Hot fluid sensation coursed down his torso, groin and thighs, bringing a slight pinkness to his skin where the water touched. He put a hand out against the cool tiles behind the shower pole and leant his face into the water, rubbing his free hand over it and into his hair. Satisfied that it was wet through he turned his back into the shower and soaped up then rinsed off. He considered masturbating but the dull ache in his head suggested that might be a bad idea at present.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the tiled side of the shower. There were few pleasures in his life, but this was certainly one of them. His mind wandered back to the conversation the night before.

"_Who are you, and where the hell did you come from?"_

He reached back and turned off the water, then stood dripping, unwilling to move from the enveloping steamy warmth of the realm behind the shower curtain. Eventually he brushed it away and stepped dripping from the bath back into cold, linoleum-floored reality. A haze of steam had collected in the bathroom. The warm midday sun filtered in through the patterned glass of the bathroom window and lay golden against Zoro's skin. He watched delicate whorls of air-suspended droplets dance through the shaft of light, shimmering and glittering for a moment then gone, lost to the shadow.

He stared down at the pooling water by his feet and grabbed a towel, rubbing vigorously with it until his body was dry, then fixing it around his waist. He cleared an area on the mirror above the sink with the edge of one palm and peered at himself again. Much better. The steam fogged the glass, and his face disappeared. He opened the window and brushed his teeth, glad to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth, and waited for the fog to clear. Cool air rushed in, and the mist fled out into the daylight. Zoro could feel small areas of moisture on his body he'd missed with the towel, and patted them dry with a spare corner of fabric.

Once the mirror had cleared he shaved carefully and rinsed his face, drying it with the towel from his waist. When he was finished he folded the towel and slung it over the side of the bath to dry, and went to get dressed.

He stopped dead as soon as he got in the room. A strip of vivid red stared out at him from behind the ugly brown bedroom wallpaper. The strip which had been covering it until his adventures in redecorating the previous night lay on the floor like a coiled husk of snake skin. He sighed at it and picked it up, wondering if he could re-attach it. Probably not. He threw it in the bin and got dressed, wondering what had come over him last night.

His evening was spent at the Going Merry. He'd been hoping to see Sanji and throw a jibe or two in his direction, but he was out of town, making an impromptu visit to a couple of old friends he'd known back when the bar had been a restaurant. So instead he sat by the bar as usual and chatted to Usopp, gradually joined by Nami, Luffy and eventually Chopper who'd decided to stop by. Somehow he felt warmer in their presence.

~*~

The morning air held a sharp crispness that warned of icy weather to come. The white, muted sun was low in the cloudless sky and cast long streaks of shadow from the people milling about the city square. They pushed and thronged and bustled, eager to get somewhere and full of important purpose. To them, Zoro was an irritation, someone outside their world with no particular place to be and no particular time to be there. His pace was slower than theirs; his life less urgent. They shoved and jostled past him like he was a rock in a fast-flowing stream – an obstacle that they thought about only for a second until they had passed him, when he was insignificant once more.

They were all alike to him. Every featureless face was the same, every person with the same worries, fears and ambitions. They were an amorphous, uninteresting mass, and he was happy to be invisible to them.

For Sanji, it was different. He was above them yet integrated somehow; they flowed around him, allowing him space to stop outside the stone arches of the railway station and light a cigarette. When he moved he joined their rhythm, slipping in amongst them with ease and walking away, like a golden fish amongst the river eddies.

Zoro pushed his way through towards him, disrupting their currents and damming their flow. He reached out and touched Sanji on the shoulder of his long brown mac. He stopped and turned, cigarette in mouth and bag over shoulder, his surprised expression turning to mild disappointment.

"Oh, Zoro." He said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just passing through and I saw you come out of the doors." Someone shoved past his back and nearly pushed him into Sanji. "Maybe we shouldn't stand and talk in the middle of everything."

Sanji nodded and followed him through the thronging people. "Where are you headed?" He asked once they were away from the station and the people traffic had thinned.

"Eh? Oh, I'm going home. Just came out to buy some food." Zoro replied, holding up the brown carrier full of groceries. Sanji gave its contents a cursory glance.

"What exactly are you planning to make from beer and meat?"

"I'm going to make grilled steak and luke-warm beer, that a problem?"

"No, just an indicator of your low-quality palette. And what the hell is _this_?" He said, pulling a cardboard packet from the bag.

"Powdered mashed potatoes." Zoro informed him. Sanji looked at him as though he'd just run over his dog. "What's it to you anyway?" He said, grabbing the packet back and stuffing it into the paper bag.

"I'm a chef," Sanji replied, teeth gritted round his cigarette. "Of course it bothers me when someone eats shit like that."

They walked on in slightly awkward silence.

"Usopp told me you were visiting friends." Zoro offered.

"Yeah." Sanji muttered and looked off to the side. It was an uncomfortable couple of seconds before he decided to continue. "Haven't seen them since my dad died, so…" He trailed off.

"Chefs?"

"Yeah."

Another awkward silence.

"You're lucky having people from your past you _want _to see again." Zoro said, and immediately regretted it. For some unfathomable reason he'd wanted to fill the silence between them with _something_, after he'd gone to the trouble of grabbing Sanji in the middle of everything without really questioning why. But now he'd gone and done precisely the thing he always tried so hard to avoid – he'd let slip a personal detail. As expected, it had piqued Sanji's interest.

"Oh?" He said, looking Zoro over. "What do you mean?"

_Shitshitshitshit_

He tried to laugh it off. "You know…unhappy childhood or whatever." But something else came out instead.

_Fuck!_

"You had an unhappy childhood?"

"It was fine. Look, forget I said anything."

"Oooh, you were trying to be so cool before and not tell me anything, and now it's like confession." Sanji goaded.

"Shut up."

They fell silent again. Zoro could feel Sanji watching him. "I wasn't mocking, you know." He said. "If you had a shitty childhood you're not the only one."

Zoro stopped, and Sanji stared at him, wondering if he'd said something offensive without meaning to. It was only ever fun if you meant to.

"This is my stop." Zoro said, motioning over at a beaten-up old terrace house.

"_That's_ your place?" Sanji said, incredulous.

"Yeah, why?"

Sanji just looked at him, then blew out a ream of smoke into the cold air. "It's a crap-hole." He said.

Zoro stared back at him flatly, groceries under one arm, keying the door. "Really? I'd mistaken it for the Taj Mahal." Sanji laughed, the gesture lingering as breath in the chill atmosphere. "You want to come in?" Zoro asked him.

"What for? Cheap meat, cheap beer and bargain-price company?" He grinned. Zoro glared at him. "Well, I'll at least help you into your hovel before I go." He grabbed the key and shoved Zoro out of the way, turning it easily in the lock and shooting him a condescending look as the door swung open.

"Thanks." Zoro muttered sarcastically. Sanji followed him inside.

"Fuck, it's as cold in here as it is out there!" He said, glancing around the wreck of a house the other man called home.

"That's bullshit, you can't see your own breath inside." Zoro replied from the kitchen. Or what was a poor excuse for a kitchen – a few cupboards and a worn-out oven accompanied by a dented metal sink hardly made for a great workplace. When Zoro looked up Sanji was staring around the room in disbelief, clinging to the doorframe as though if he let go he'd be sucked forward into one of the higher circles of hell.

"I can only hope you have the love of a good woman to balance out all the horrible things in your life." He said with melodramatic sincerity. Zoro shot him a sideways look and pulled a beer from the bag.

"Want one?"

Sanji considered the prospect and then relented. "Sure." He sighed, then glanced back into the front room at the hideously malformed lump that was the sofa. "But I hope you don't expect me to sit on that."

"Sit wherever the hell you want." Zoro muttered, rifling through draws in search of a bottle opener.

Then Sanji noticed something out of place, something odd amongst the uncared-for shell of the house and the forlorn furniture. He walked over to it and examined it closer. The plant was ugly. A stumpy, spiky brown thing that looked long past its sell-by date. The small terracotta pot it lived in – barely – sat in a small china saucer on the windowsill in the front room, looking out onto the road. Sanji poked a finger into the saucer, and found particles of damp soil that had escaped the pot from a recent watering. Probably that morning, he imagined. He wiped his finger dry and took off his coat, draping it over what was arguably one of the sofa's arms, and sat down. The terrain of the sofa was decidedly uneven, and it took a couple of prods to work the lumps into the right places.

Zoro came through from the kitchen and handed him a beer with a faint look of surprise, then sat beside him. He sank a good few inches below Sanji's eyeline. "One side is higher than the other." Zoro explained.

They knocked back a few beers and chatted for a while. Sanji made a few passes at trying to get more information about Zoro's past, but he was stubbornly refusing again. Sanji decided it was a job for the persuasive talents of alcohol, and went to rummage around in Zoro's cupboards for liquor when the man had gone to the bathroom. He found only a few meagre food supplies and a rotting orange, until he came to the cupboard under the sink. There was a brown hold-all in there he was sure would contain something good. He pulled back the zip and stared at the bag's contents. He could feel the colour drain from his face. It was full of money. Wads of notes stuffed into it until there was no more room. From the dent in the piles it looked like Zoro had only taken a few wads out. Sanji pulled one out and flicked through it, certain that it would be fake or the notes would be forgeries. But everything looked legitimate. Zoro could be living in a city penthouse apartment, but he was living in a dank, dilapidated wreck. It explained the mystery of the posters, though. He'd paid with his own money.

A bag stuffed with notes and a tube of full of weaponry made Zoro a very interesting guy indeed.

He heard Zoro's footsteps upstairs and quickly shoved the wad back into the bag, zipping it closed. He made no mention of what he'd found.

~*~

"Oi Usopp, you seen where this guy lives?"

Zoro clenched his jaw in annoyance and looked away.

"Nope."

"If he ever offers you hospitality you'd better refuse."

"Oh?"

"His place is a wreck, it's a wonder it hasn't been torn down already."

"It suits my purposes."

"What are those? Is it your goal in life to die of cold and tuberculosis?"

"It's just a little run-down, it's not that bad." Zoro told Usopp.

"You know, the place a man calls home is a reflection of his soul."

"Whatever."

Sanji produced a small tied plastic bag containing some brown dirt and placed it on the bar top.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"It's called 'soil', idiot swordsman. It's a magical substance plants need to grow green and lush rather than brown and crispy. I thought yours could do with some." Zoro looked from the bag to Sanji. Sanji stared back. "It's good soil from the vegetable garden out back. Look, it's not difficult, you just throw away the old soil and replant into the new. It'll grow much better."

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

"It's busy again tonight."

"_What?_"

"_I said, it's busy again tonight._"

"_Oh. Yeah._" Usopp nodded, shouting into Zoro's ear above the hubbub of the people and the music. Sanji had become hugely popular in the past couple of weeks since the Merry's fortunes had shifted. Now he was on almost every other night during the week and both nights at the weekend. Tonight, some suited important-looking types had gathered and were watching him with particular interest. The music changed and the tempo altered, the melody shifting into classic melancholy blues. Zoro watched him in the mirrored back of the bar.

"_You_

_Made me leave my happy home_

_You took my love and now you're gone_

He felt a sudden jolt as Sanji looked over in his direction.

_Since I fell for you__"_

Zoro dismissed the idea that Sanji was looking _at _him as soon as the thought occurred, but the feeling it had made left residual traces.

_Love brings such misery and pain_

_I guess I'll never be the same_

_Since I fell for you."_

He took a long swig of alcohol and watched Sanji carefully, trying to read his body language, taking careful note of every movement. He took an even longer swig and wondered to himself what the point of doing that would be.

_It's too bad,_

_It's so sad,_

_I'm in love with you._

But the thought was already in there. For some reason, the thought of Sanji singing those words in his direction was oddly thrilling.

_But what can I do_

_I get the blues bout every night_

_Since I fell for you_

He swallowed hard and rubbed at his forehead. Things were suddenly confusing. The melody stopped, and everyone around him applauded. Zoro looked at the bottom of his empty glass, and decided to forget what he'd just been thinking about.

The next couple of hours were remembered only in a blur. The crowding people had left and they'd locked the doors, staying in to celebrate. The Going Merry was officially in profit. This evidently required a huge celebration, one which spread to locations outside the little bar to those in the city centre. They'd laughed and gotten more drunk together, and Zoro noticed with a strange sickening sensation that he didn't feel as lonely as he was used to. He'd started to enjoy their company more than he should. He'd gotten to know their laughter, their voices and their quips, the way they were with one another, and he liked spending time with them.

Before his defence mechanisms kicked in, he'd decided that he was too drunk to care, and allowed it all just to flow over him. In retrospect that had been a bad idea. Somehow it had ended up being just him and Sanji again, sitting in a semi-circular booth in one of the up-market bars drinking spirits. After the summersaults his mind had been performing earlier in the evening, he felt a little uncomfortable. Sanji didn't appear to notice.

"Bastards have no staying power. That's _one_ thing I like about you, at least." Sanji told him. Zoro laughed politely, without any trace of mirth. Sanji noticed something was off, and looked at him suspiciously. Zoro felt a blush light his cheeks and willed it to get the fuck off his face. "Ok," Sanji continued, lighting a cigarette. "Now that I've got you alone again I can continue interrogating you. But first, more drink."

After a few more rounds, and much verbal prodding, Zoro relented. "Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

Sanji thought about this for a moment. "I forget." He said eventually. Zoro burst into fits of laughter. "A-hah!" Sanji announced, and looked at Zoro with a face full of seriousness.

_Here it comes…_

"Have you ever been in love?"

The question was completely unexpected, and threw him for six. "No." He managed. His answer seemed to amuse Sanji, who leaned back against the booth with a wry smile on his face, drawing on his cigarette.

"Didn't think so. You're far too cold."

"Eh?"

"Lets just say being with a woman brings a certain warmth to a person that you don't have."

"So you haven't been with one either, then."

Sanji's face twisted in irritation and his teeth clamped together. "…No." He muttered. Zoro laughed. "How do you do it?" Sanji added, looking over at the green haired man.

"What?"

"Keep everyone at a distance? Stay so secretive, when they let you in so easily?"

"It's not like I do it on purpose." He lied. "It's just who I am."

Sanji snorted and folded his arms. "Whatever." He lay his head back, his blond hair falling softly across his forehead. "I love this song." He said.

Zoro listened, trying to pinpoint it. He watched Sanji's lips moving as he mouthed the words.

_I want a little sweetness  
down in my soul  
I could stand some lovin'  
Oh so bad_

_I want some steam  
on my clothes  
Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go_

Sanji noticed him watching, and Zoro looked away, studying the contents of his empty glass. "Tell me." He said, grinning and leaning in close. Zoro could smell the complicated scents of wine and cigarettes coming from the other man. They were practically nose to nose. This combined with the expectancy in Sanji's eyes forced a blush to his cheeks, but he told himself it was the alcohol.

"Tell you what?"

Sanji moved to speak into his ear. "Who the hell you are." The whispered words were hot in both his ear and his mind. He shifted awkwardly as he felt a reaction to them further south.

He put a hand to the other man's chest and pushed him back. "I've nothing to tell you, cook."

Sanji clicked his tongue in frustration and glared at Zoro, jaw set. "Right," He stated, resolutely. "Come with me, bastard." He grabbed Zoro by the wrist and dragged him from the bar, weaving between other drunken revellers.

Zoro watched him with a strange sense of detachment. The wrist Sanji was holding didn't seem like his own, even though it led up to his body. The singer-cook pulled him on with definite purpose, but he had no idea where he was being pulled to. The people and the lights of the bar streamed past and through the periphery of his consciousness practically unnoticed. To him, someone who noticed everything, who _had_ to notice everything, it was an odd sensation indeed.

He had been drugged before. He had been pushed and pulled around before. But this feeling was new. Through a haze of alcohol he was dully aware that he had broken two cardinal rules. The first was never to trust. The second was-

Sanji stopped and turned. A sickening feeling came to Zoro's gut borne of experience rather than drunkenness. Next would be the hit; the pain. Next would be tell-me-everything-if-you-want-to-live. But his body prepared no defence, no counterattack, even as Sanji grabbed him by his shirt and brought them face-to-face.

"We're not going back to that shit-hole of yours, so don't even think about suggesting it." He hissed. Zoro looked at him, confused. "I've some good quality stuff back home." He wagged a drunken finger in Zoro's face, and seemed to consider something. "Shit." He drawled, eventually. "I've been saving it, you know. Saving it for the woman of my dreams. One sip and she'd fall into my arms and be mine forever."

"What the hell are you blabbering about?"

"But you're a lucky fuck and I'm feeling generous. She'll have to wait." He said, walking off down the road. When he turned back, Zoro was still standing in the same place as though rooted to the spot. "Will you fucking _come on_ then?" He shouted. Zoro's feet moved without his input.

They half-walked half-stumbled along together in silence for a while, until Sanji started humming one of the tunes he'd been singing earlier that evening.

"You know," Zoro offered, "I don't think I've told you before, but you're a good singer."

"You haven't. Not that it means shit coming from you, asshole."

"You're the asshole, you can't even take a complement properly."

"Oh? You wanna fight?" Sanji said, grabbing the arm of Zoro's shirt. Zoro brushed him off, grinning.

"No, I want another drink."

Sanji laughed.

----------

Sanji's place was warm and inviting, and well-furnished with carpets and comfortable things to sit on. Zoro slipped his shoes off and pushed his toes into the deep pile. The feeling was luxurious and a thousand miles away from his 'hovel', as Sanji had put it.

Sanji returned from the kitchen brandishing a bottle of wine. He opened it in an almost ceremonial manner with a satisfying 'pop', glaring at the man untidily arranged on his sofa. Zoro grinned up at him. He poured a glass and pushed it to Zoro over the coffee table

"Drink. You're going to tell me everything."

_Where have I heard that before?_

"Why do you want to know so badly who I am?"

"Because you won't tell me." Sanji replied, settling on the sofa beside Zoro.

"What if it's just not that interesting?"

"You must have a reason to carry _those_ with you everywhere." He said, motioning at Zoro's tube of swords.

"You've got a point."

Sanji rolled his head on the back of the sofa so that their faces were close again for the third time that evening. Blond hair fell across his face. His expression was almost seductive. "Just tell me, I won't tell anyone else, I promise." He grinned. Zoro shook his head and knocked back the glass of wine. "Hey, come on! I take you out, I treat you to the best wine in my stock, you've got to give me something."

Zoro snorted and wine almost flew out of his nose. "Is that what you were planning to say to the woman of your dreams?"

A mischievous grin split Sanji's features. "Something like that, maybe."

"Well you're not getting that from me."

"As if I'd want it from _you_."

"Like you could handle it if you did."

"Fuck you, I could handle anything." He said, suddenly flustered. Now Zoro was the one grinning. Sanji jabbed him hard in the ribs. "Don't divert the conversation. Give me what I want."

Suddenly they were both very still. Zoro's expression became an inscrutable mixture of surprise and embarrassment as Sanji stared back at him, fingering the stem of the wine glass in his lap. He seemed to decide something, and Zoro noticed it flicker across his features the instant before Sanji kissed him.

Or perhaps less kissed him and more fell into his lips. It was clumsy and missed half of his mouth entirely, and Zoro's clouded mind concluded that Sanji hadn't meant to do it at all, or that if he had, he was so drunk that the gesture had lost all meaning and it was simply a friendly exchange.

A moment later Sanji destroyed his argument with a full kiss, shifting his head and pressing his soft, warm lips against Zoro's. Zoro watched the other man kiss him, eyes closed and odd curled-eyebrows furrowed. He allowed it, trying frantically to clear his head.

It was when Sanji opened his lips against Zoro's mouth to deepen the kiss that everything shattered. His resolve crumbled under the weight of his want and flooding realisation. He had promised himself that there was nothing he needed, nothing he wanted that couldn't be bought or traded for, and everything else was unnecessary. Everything else belonged to normal people. He couldn't ever understand their lives, full of ties and bonds and friendship, and he didn't want to. It didn't suit him. It wouldn't suit him. He'd convinced himself he didn't need any of it; he was content with the way things were, living from one job to the next, doing what they told him to do to whomever they wanted it done.

He'd been so sure of who he was and what he wanted until that kiss. He'd been blissfully unaware of his desire, but now Sanji was freeing it, telling him it was ok to want and ok to need, because for the first time in his life he felt wanted in return. When his hand moved up to Sanji's face it was trembling. With his free hand he reached for the glass in the singer's lap and leant away from the kiss to place it on the table.

He felt electric inside. When he turned back, the other man was waiting for his return. He kissed Sanji forcefully, leaning him back onto the cushions of the sofa so he was lying on top. Sanji kissed him roughly from beneath, arching his back and pulling at Zoro's clothes and hair. He opened his legs and Zoro slipped between his thighs.

For the first time in Zoro's young adult life he felt alive. He was aware he was still drunk but everything seemed to become clearer – all the things he'd never questioned or given consideration, all the issues he'd never addressed came piling forward. He'd never wanted anything as bad as he wanted Sanji right now, sprawled beneath him and panting against his lips. The erection pressed against his stomach was so hard he thought either of them might burst at any second, but it felt too good to stop. He ground hard into Sanji, drawing a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth and a fierce grip on his shirt so strong he thought the singer might tear it from his body.

Suddenly Sanji pushed him off and ran. Zoro's heart sank like the bottom of his soul had fallen out. Then he realised, and followed Sanji into the bedroom.

The singer was lying on his front on the bed, breathing slowly. Then gentle sounds came from him, and Zoro realised he was asleep.

He stood in the doorway, deflated and disappointed but somehow still happy. Sanji had kissed him, and had wanted the same thing he had and still did. Zoro walked over and reached for a corner of the covers, pulling them over the top of the sleeping, snoring man. He looked warm and peaceful.

"Sleep tight." He said, and walked out to grab his coat. As he picked it up his eyes lingered on the sofa, his mind dwelling on what happened and re-igniting the fire in his groin. He put his coat on clumsily and his body reminded him he was still drunk. He left Sanji's apartment and headed home.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

It was greening up, just as Sanji had promised. Zoro rubbed gently at the plant's spindly leaves, observing the new flush of life. Still not fully recovered, but not so close to death. He rotated the pot in the china dish so that more of its leaves faced the window. A gentle morning light was streaming in, and it felt warm on his face.

He'd woken uncomfortably as usual, and hung-over as seemed to be becoming a habit. The bedroom had been a mess. A temporary madness must have overcome him and driven him to finish what he'd started with the wallpaper. Not a strip of the brown print remained; he'd found himself surrounded by brilliant red dancing whorls and swirls, glowing in the dawn.

Then he'd remembered the night before. At first he'd thought it must have been a dream, but the way he felt told him it wasn't. He pushed his thumb to his lips and thought of Sanji, of their alcohol-fuelled encounter and how it had ended. A lot was confusing and unclear. He was feeling something new, something fresh and clean and exhilarating, and he wanted more of it. His eyes traced patterns on the wallpaper as his mind wandered. The sensation in his chest was still hot and raw and fragile, like newly-blown glass cooling slowly in the air. He wanted to explore it but it made him feel nervous, as though he was treading somewhere forbidden. He needed to see Sanji again.

-----------

"It was incredible."

"Really." Usopp said, not making any effort to disguise his disinterest.

"No, really. There was this kiss…I don't remember much, but I remember that."

"Great. I'm happy for you."

"Shit I wish I hadn't been so drunk, then I'd remember her. Zoro! You were there longer than these assholes, do you remember her?"

"Afraid not."

"Ahn, I bet she was a dream…hair like Brigitte Bardot and legs up to here…"

"And the only reason you know she was there at all is that there were two wine glasses on your coffee table this morning. How are you so sure that anyone else was there at all?" Usopp said, sarcastically.

Sanji glared at him. "Look, I wouldn't have opened that bottle for just anyone, and I _definitely _wouldn't have opened it for myself."

"But you woke up fully-clothed, in bed."

"Shut up." He spat. He returned to his whimsical fantasy. "It's like a fairytale; she's out there somewhere, wandering around the city alone…waiting for me to come sweep her off her feet…"

"And ending up with you is supposed to be the happily-ever-after? Her narrow escape sounds more like the plot of a cautionary tale to me."

"I'll kill you. Anyway, what the hell's up with you today?" Sanji said, turning on his barstool towards the unusually-quiet Zoro. He grinned and waggled his one visible eyebrow. "Pissed I got the girl?"

~*~

There was nothing more to be said, he decided. He might not be happy with the way things had turned out, but there was no reason to exacerbate them. If Sanji didn't remember then there wasn't much he could do about it.

That morning he'd taken a long, cold walk along the port docks, hoping the clean sea air might help him think. He'd felt a gut-wrenching disappointment when Sanji had told them his version of events, and it had surprised him. It was like a lead brick had been dropped from a great height onto that delicate glass inside of him, and everything was in pieces again.

He'd never found himself attracted to anyone before. He'd never wanted anyone or had an interest in sex until Sanji. The opportunity had arisen on various occasions, but he'd never felt the need to reciprocate the desires of another. It had always seemed pointless; a few moments of pleasure in a landscape built of dust and ash.

Sanji had made him feel differently. Sanji made him brim with want and need, overpowering internal forces that he wasn't used to and couldn't contain. Just re-living the kiss made him feel a thousand times more alive than at any time he could remember. Sitting on his barstool at the Going Merry, he tried very hard not to think about it.

From behind him came the tell-tale slap of the kitchen doors.

"Oi, Zoro."

Zoro turned on his barstool. "What?" He replied. Sanji had an unpleasant look on his face. He looked drawn and ashen, as though he'd just received some bad news. He beckoned Zoro over and disappeared back into the kitchen. Zoro followed.

He pushed the door open to find Sanji leaning against a cooker and lighting another cigarette. Zoro stood and stared at him, expecting him to say something.

"I remembered something." Sanji said, without looking up. Zoro stayed quiet. "You. You were the one I came home with, not some woman. Fuck, I can't believe I opened that bottle for you."

"So you remember…"

"Yeah you bastard, and that's not all I remember….shit…" He rubbed at a non-existent blemish on the kitchen counter. "How far?"

"What?"

"How far did it go?"

"You don't remember?"

"Why the fuck do you think I'm asking you?"

"It was just…the kiss. It didn't go further than that."

Sanji looked down and nodded.

"You fell asleep, so…"

"Are you saying it would have gone further?"

"…yeah. Probably…I wouldn't have done anything you didn't want to-"

Sanji's fist slammed into Zoro's jaw, forcing him back against the row of kitchen cabinets behind. In retrospect, he supposed he should have seen it coming. That was what he got for breaking rule number one. He sucked on his lip where it had broken, tasting that familiar metallic tang. When he looked up Sanji was still glaring at him. He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

"Oi, Zoro…" Usopp said as he passed. As Zoro pushed his way out of the Going Merry, he heard the barman shout after Sanji. The rest of the argument was left behind the bar's door.

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

He was certain now of why it was right to be cautious of others, why he'd spent so much effort for so many years keeping them distant and not growing attached. If you became attached, you'd get hurt. The raw pain of unrequited affections was an entirely new and horrible experience for him, however. It was as though someone had measured out precise quantities of embarrassment, disappointment and shame into his consciousness, and then stirred the mixture so that he could experience their various flavours all at once. The pain in his jaw was at least something he was accustomed to.

He wondered what Sanji was feeling, then thought of their kiss and of Sanji's reaction. The cruel wooden spoon turned again in the bowl of his mind. He sighed and stared glumly out of the front room window, catching a glimpse of a man who vaguely resembled the singer-cook turning a corner off the street. Zoro scratched the back of his head as though trying to dislodge some unwanted thoughts.

A few minutes later the same man went past again, in the same direction. He was circling. On the man's next pass, Zoro pulled up the window and leaned out.

"Do you want something?" He yelled. The air outside was cold, and his breath hung in the air.

Sanji stopped in the middle of the street without looking up. "Fuck," He muttered, and lit a cigarette.

"Want to come in?"

"Like hell I do."

"Fine by me, stand outside and freeze to death." Zoro slammed the window shut.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock on his door. A reluctant, uncertain knock. When Zoro opened it, Sanji was standing on his doorstep looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Don't get any funny ideas, I'm here because Luffy made me."

Zoro let him in. He trudged into the front room, hands fixed in the coat pockets of his brown mac. He had an intense, fidgety look about him.

"What do you want?" Zoro asked him.

"Look," He began, then seemed to loose faith in his own words. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and avoided Zoro's gaze. "I'm sorry I hit you." He said eventually, but with sincerity.

"Ok," Zoro replied, unable to think of anything better to say.

"They're worried you won't want to come back to the bar any more."

"Do they know _why _you hit me?"

Sanji fidgeted from foot to foot. "Not as such, no." There was an awkward silence. "Luffy wants to hire you." Sanji told him. Zoro stared back at him.

"What?"

"He wants you to join our 'crew'. He thinks you'll be pretty handy in a tight spot, and things being the way they are at the moment we can even afford to pay you a wage." Zoro stayed silent. "Look if you're worried about my reaction or whatever, just, don't be…It was a drunken mistake, I realise that." Still no response. Sanji could feel a rapid flush rising on his cheeks. "Besides, it's not like all the blame rests on you," Zoro looked at him suddenly, and he almost lost track of what he was saying. "I mean, I was…we _both_ were…you weren't the only…umm…" He trailed off, pressing his fingertips together. With Zoro looking at him like that it felt as though his heart was about to leap into his throat, but he couldn't break the gaze.

"Sure, why not." Came the green-haired man's response. Sanji had to back-track to realise what he was referring to.

"Fine. They'll be pleased."

Zoro had expected him to leave as soon as he could, but Sanji just stood there staring back at him.

"You going to get your stuff or what?" He said. Zoro realised what he'd been waiting for, and got himself together. They headed out to the Merry.

"Look, for what it's worth I'm sorry." Zoro muttered into the collar of his coat. "It was all just in the moment,"

"Yeah," Sanji said. "Nothing else to it, right?" He watched Zoro carefully.

"Nope." Zoro lied. _Nothing at all._

-----------

When he'd first become more aware of who he was, and why he did what he did, he'd decided a number of things. The first was that he didn't need anyone. He was fine by himself, living with his own rules, doing what was necessary to put food in his belly.

The second was that if by some weird cosmic happening he ever _did_ come to need someone, or even like them, he would need to take immediate action. His own loneliness would be much easier to manage than the dependencies of other people.

To ensure he never got close to anyone, he'd decided on some principles. These were never to be broken, under any circumstances. Never trust. Never need. Never love. And if he did the unspeakable, if he ever broke the rules, he had come up with a way to tell that had an intrinsic response built into it.

If he didn't want to leave, it was time to go.

And it was definitely time to go.

They were offering him everything he wanted, everything he longed for. Friendship. Warmth. Compassion. The only logical course of events would be him destroying himself or them, and he didn't want either of those. He couldn't weaken, couldn't fray round the edges even a little, even if he wanted to. Especially if he wanted to.

He'd feigned a sore head and left them to celebrate. He'd walked home in the dark, heavy with guilt and regret. But it was what had to be done. They'd gotten too close to him, and that could only ever bring tragedy.

He grabbed his holdall from under the sink. It felt heavier than before. He had no idea where he'd go next, but that was a problem for another time.

Then something stopped him dead, something he should have noticed earlier. He suddenly felt sick. Her perfume. A fragrance of rose gardens and delicate, scented hedgerows drifted through the house. It was the stench of death. He turned. He had no idea how she'd found him, but there she was, sitting on his front room windowsill, regarding him coolly from under a purple Stetson. Only part of her face was visible in the stray light from the streetlamp.

"My my, Roronoa. It's been too long."

_Miss Allsunday._

The angel of death perched on his windowsill gave him an enigmatic smirk. He launched himself at his tube of katana but the hands of unseen men in the shadows held him and pinned him to the ground. He couldn't believe he'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed them. He heard her laugh gently, and felt sick.

"You've gotten soft. You've even started to gather unnecessary things."

He heard a soft grating sound, like the sound of china on wood. The plant tumbled to the floor, its pot smashing open and spilling soil over the rotten carpet in front of his face. She crushed the plant under her foot.

"What do you want?" He said, staring at the broken plant and trying to control the wavering tone in his voice.

"What I always want." She said calmly, pulling a brown envelope from a pocket inside her jacket. "Payment in full after the job, as usual." She placed the slim packet in front of his face. "Crocodile will be waiting to hear from you."

She clicked her fingers and the pressure holding him relented. He sat up and watched her leave. There was nothing he could do. She held the chain that led to the manacle around his neck.

He picked up the envelope and looked at it. Just a plain, brown unmarked envelope. Just when he thought he'd escaped her. He didn't want to know what was inside, but drew out its contents anyway. He dropped his head into his hands.

The owner of the Going Merry.

~*~

Sanji's face appeared from around the door to his apartment. Zoro thought he noticed the faintest hint of a smile, though he put it down to his imagination.

"Hey." He said, feeling a smile form across his lips.

"What the hell are you doing here at this time of night?" Sanji asked him.

"It's only seven." He replied. He noticed Sanji's fluffy white slippers. "Nice. Didn't mean to disturb you…"

"Shut up. What do you want?"

"Come with me for a bit."

"Eeh? What kind of request is that?"

"Just get your coat and put some shoes on. I've got the car." Zoro jingled a set of keys.

"You had a car?"

"Yup." Zoro said, faking a grin. He figured it would have been a bad idea to let it be known he'd only bought the car that afternoon, in cold hard cash.

"Fine, whatever, gimme a sec." Sanji disappeared back into the apartment.

_Easy_, Zoro thought. _Far too easy._

-----------

"Right." Sanji said, voice thick with sarcasm. "How old is that thing?"

"_That thing_, is a Henry J Corsair _DeLuxe_. And it's only slightly younger than we are."

The car was a 1950s rust-bucket, sea blue where the paint hadn't flaked off.

"Are you sure it still goes?" Sanji asked, peering in the passenger side window at the interestingly-patterned interior.

"Just get in already." Zoro told him, opening the door on the driver's side. Sanji obliged.

It was a cold evening, and both of them were wrapped in their coats. Sanji pulled up the collar on his mac and turned to Zoro, who was frowning down at the steering wheel and fingering the keys somewhat reluctantly.

"So where are we going then?" Sanji asked, blowing into his hands. It seemed to shake Zoro out of whatever trance he was in.

"You'll find out when we get there." He said.

"This is lame. I hope you're not planning to do anything weird…"

Zoro shot him a look, and he responded with a semi-nervous laugh. When he looked back Zoro was still gazing at him, and what was already an awkward situation became even more uncomfortable. Zoro coughed and looked away quickly, starting the ignition and driving off. Sanji shifted his position and stared out of the window.

"So, uh, how's the plant?" He asked, trying to break the mood.

"Fine, fine." Zoro lied. "Thanks for the dirt."

"Soil."

"Right."

"Is it green yet?"

"Still sort of brown."

Lamp-posts changed to street-lights as they passed onto the more major city roads.

"I could come take a look at it if you like, if it's still not growing."

"It'll be fine, I think."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks for the offer though."

"Uh-huh."

Zoro stopped at a red light. The only sound was the faint ticking of the indicator.

"Do you ever find it weird that someone else is in charge of your Dad's restaurant?"

Sanji looked at him. "Uh, not really…It's weird when I think back to what it used to be and what it is now, but even though Luffy runs the place I still own it. And he's a good manager, so…"

"You never wanted to make it into your own restaurant?"

"Used to be a dream of mine…but things change. Dad left it to me on the condition I looked after it, and we've done that much."

A silence dropped between them again.

"Look, I hope you don't-"

"Listen, about-"

"Sorry, you go." Zoro said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Sanji shifted again. "I was…I was just thinking it's good that you're joining us."

"Thanks."

"No really, we could use a guy like you who's…"

"Who's 'what'?" Zoro said, smirking over at him. Sanji looked out of the passenger-side window and scratched his jaw.

"You know…"

"Charismatic, fun to have around, exciting…" Zoro filled in.

Sanji shot him a scornful look. "None of those would have been my first choice. I dunno, 'dumbass', 'bastard', 'asshole'…you're these things and so much more."

Zoro laughed. "OK really, what was it?"

"You're…dependable."

The word stuck like a knife in Zoro's gut.

"You think I'm dependable." He laughed.

"Sure. Whenever there's been a problem recently, you're been there, you know, for us." In the corner of his eye, Zoro saw Sanji turn in his direction. "It's much appreciated, I just thought you should know."

"Thanks."

The city roads had turned to freeway.

Zoro sighed. "What I wanted to say was, I'm sorry about what happened the other day. If I'd known it was unwanted I never would've…"

"Yeah."

"I mean, we were both drunk so there's nothing in it."

"Yeah." Sanji buried his chin deeper into his collar.

They drove in silence for a while, along the straight roads of the freeway. It was practically empty, and for long stretches of time the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the movement of air over the bonnet. Zoro kept a careful watch on Sanji. He seemed tense and a little apprehensive, but not in a negative way. He could barely keep himself still. That word was still ringing around in his head like a bell.

_Dependable_

Zoro pulled the car to a stop in a deserted lay-by.

Sanji laughed and leaned to look around out of the window. He turned back to Zoro. "This is what you wanted to show me?

"Get out of the car."

"What for? There's nothing here."

"Get out of the car, Sanji."

"Ok, what the fuck is this?"

Sanji stared at the gun in Zoro's hand.

"Get out." He was told, for the third time.

"Are you going to shoot me?" He asked, incredulous.

_Am I?_

"All I want is for you to get out of the car."

"In the middle of fucking nowhere? What the hell's going on, Zoro?"

Zoro released the safety on the gun.

"Fine!" Sanji yelled and opened the car door. Once he'd gotten out, Zoro reached onto the back seat and pulled his holdall forward. He handed it to Sanji. It was impossible to look up into his face. He didn't want to see what expression the other man was wearing.

"Take this and leave. Disappear. Don't ever go back to the Merry." He paused. "I'm sorry. Have a nice life." He leaned over and pulled the door shut on the dumb-founded singer.

The car left with a screech of tires from rapid acceleration, and Sanji was left by the side of the road with only the clothes on his back and the bag he already knew was full of money. Zoro gripped the steering wheel tightly and watched as Sanji grew smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror then disappeared into the darkness altogether.

~*~


	8. Chapter 8

He turned it over and over in his hands, fingers slowly exploring the contrasts of smooth, hard gun-metal and warmer, polished wood. The revolver was small and light. He popped the chamber out with his thumb, and it made a satisfying noise as metal scraped against metal. Zoro stared down at the empty holes where the rounds should have been, snug in their burrows and waiting to be called to duty. He couldn't have shot Sanji even if he'd wanted to.

The singer's shocked expression re-surfaced in his mind.

He slipped the chamber closed again. He'd always hated guns. Too soulless and impersonal. He'd bought it because he'd known it would be much more convenient to pull a gun in the car than it would have been to draw a katana. A good hit meant planning ahead.

All the lights were off. He hadn't bothered to turn them on when he'd come back. He got up from the sofa and walked to the kitchen, then dumped the revolver in the bin. His plan had been a success, after all, and he had no more need of it. The bruised, battered form of the plant stared back at him from the sink draining board, describing a tatty silhouette against the meagre moonlight. The pot hadn't been broken too badly, and he'd managed to stick it back together with tape. The only problem was that now it leaked, and had to be watered in the sink. He wondered whether it would survive at all.

The health of the plant was the least of his worries. Even with Sanji gone, Crocodile would still be a problem for the Merry.

_Brown mac, blond hair, melting into the dark_

Crocodile was certainly still a problem for Zoro.

A sharp, angry-sounding knock at his door cut into his thoughts. The knocking was loud and relentless, and he made sure his katana weren't far away before opening it.

Sanji was pissed. More pissed than when he'd hit Zoro that time before in the kitchen. He was about to make his argument on Zoro's doorstep but pushed his way inside instead, slamming the door behind him. Zoro's mouth felt dry. Things hadn't turned out how he'd planned at all.

Sanji shoved past Zoro into the front room and dropped the holdall ceremonially on the floor while fixing the man in a firm glare. He removed his coat and began to roll up his sleeves. "I have no idea what the fuck that was about," He said. "But I'm going to kick your fucking ass."

"What the hell did you come back for?" Zoro shouted, suddenly finding his voice. "I told you leave!"

"I came back because I'm not going anywhere, not even if some stupid sonofa_bitch _drives me out to the ass-end of nowhere, sticks a fucking gun in my face and tells me to get the hell out." Sanji said, voice low and leaden with rage. "And I came here because I just spent the best part of three hours walking along a road in the freezing dark, hitchhiking where I could, trying not to make it obvious I was carrying a bag full of _fucking money_, and I would very, very much like to know why."

"There's no time for that. You have to leave, now."

"No."

"This isn't a fucking game, Sanji!"

Sanji kicked Zoro hard in the ribs. It was so fast he didn't even see it coming. He fell back into the coffee table behind him, breaking it into splinters.

"What the hell is going on, Zoro?" Sanji raged.

The other man stood up, calmly brushing his trousers free of table debris. He was angry with Sanji for coming back when he'd gone to so much effort to get him out.

"Your head has a price on it." He said simply. "And you should leave before someone collects."

Sanji straightened. "And how would you know that?"

"Because that's what I do for a living. You wanted to know so badly; there you go."

Zoro noticed Sanji relax, just a fraction, his anger seeming to dissipate. Sanji grinned and lit a cigarette. "So you were hired to kill me?"

"The fuck are you grinning for?"

"Explains why I found _this_ under your sink." He kicked the brown bag. "It's a funny situation, don't you think? No? Just me then. Mind telling me _why_?"

"You should be aware that Crocodile's after the Going Merry." Zoro said through gritted teeth. Sanji could see the tension in his body.

"Yeah, he has been for years. Tried to buy me out. Made loads of big-money offers. Wasn't interested."

"Do you know _why_ that little bar is so important to him?"

Sanji shrugged. "Never thought about it."

Zoro sighed and rubbed his forehead. "He's a reputable businessman on the surface. A philanthropist, even, with his various children's foundations and hospital sponsorships. Beneath it he's seeking to expand his influence in any way he can, like buying land from the local authority." Sanji stared back at him blankly. Zoro gritted his teeth tighter, and continued. "You must have noticed the state of things around here. There's a whole swathe of the city, government-owned, ripe for re-development that Crocodile wants to buy up and build on. The only thing that stands in his way is a small plot of privately-owned land smack in the middle of everything."

"The Merry."

"Yeah. He tried to buy you out, tried to intimidate you into taking an offer, and when those things failed he used his influence to divert custom away from the place, hoping you'd fold and move on. But you didn't, so here I am."

Sanji laughed. "He wants the place that badly, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Well tough shit. The Baratie moves for no-one."

Zoro looked back at him. "Baratie?"

"My dad's restaurant."

Sanji looked proud in the glow from the streetlights. "This isn't the time to be sentimental." Zoro told him. "You still have to leave."

"You an idiot? I said, I'm not going anywhere."

"If you want to live, take the money and go." Zoro growled.

If that was meant to be a threat, Sanji ignored it. "You really think I'd leave everyone behind like that? Just disappear and never see them again?"

"Sometimes people have to do very difficult things to survive."

"Life isn't simply about surviving, Zoro. It's about filling your existence with people you love and walking forward with pride. I won't back down, no matter how many times the stupid Croc tries to bite me. I won't be moved, and I won't leave."

Zoro looked at him, dumbfounded.

_Fill your existence with people you love_

_Walk forward with pride_

In the sudden stillness of the moment things began to occur to Sanji. Zoro had made it this far in life being a cold-hearted hit-man. He'd never settled anywhere, never loved anyone. And yet he'd risked everything to get Sanji to safety, given him everything he had so the singer could start a new life.

"Why didn't you kill me?" He said. The question made Zoro obviously uneasy.

"Broken rules." He muttered, running his fingers through his hair and looking away.

"It should have been just like any other time, right?" He persisted. "You could have shot me in the head in that lay-by, I'd never have seen it coming."

"Shut up." Zoro growled.

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to."

"Why?"

"_Why?_" Zoro yelled. "Because of how I feel when I'm around you. Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because I'm fucking glad you kissed me, and if the opportunity arose again I'd take it in a fucking instant, so excuse me for not wanting to put a bullet in your brains."

"Then stop talking and fucking do it already."

"What?"

Sanji grabbed him by the shirt and brought them mouth-to-mouth, kissing him forcefully. Zoro's hands went to Sanji's back, holding them together. Sanji was kissing him again. The first time hadn't been a mistake, after all. The kiss deepened and the singer's tongue slipped into his mouth. His body felt electric again. Then Sanji pulled away suddenly, the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Shit."

"What?" Zoro responded, trying to control the trembling in his hands. He was suddenly very glad that Sanji had come back after all.

"Do you have any idea how confusing it is to be so turned on by another guy?"

Zoro stared at him. "Somewhat." He replied, flatly.

All he could think about was that kiss, that tongue. He stepped towards Sanji slowly. All thoughts of their previous conversation drained from his mind as he closed in on the other man. "Stay." He said, simply.

"First you want me to go, now you want me to stay," Sanji said, trying to joke and divert attention from what they both wanted. Zoro's lips were full, and close. When they parted slightly, Sanji was pretty sure there was nothing that could have forced him to leave. Zoro kissed him again, lightly, then drew away, just enough to watch his face in the dark. Sanji felt a hand slip up his chest and underneath the bracer at his shoulder. Zoro pushed it off, and it fell limp against his leg. The other one followed it. His whole body was burning with anticipation. He'd never felt so alive, even on stage in front of hundreds.

As Zoro undid Sanji's shirt buttons one by one, parts of the singer's mind began to question his actions. What was he thinking? Zoro was a _guy_, and a dangerous one at that. The man who'd put a gun in his face. The man who'd been hired to kill him. Zoro's warm hands slipped beneath his shirt to his bare skin, and the dissenting voices went quiet. Zoro's touch was firm but gentle, like a caress.

He still couldn't figure out what the draw was. Zoro was an enigma. He knew next-to-nothing about his past and very few details of his present, none of which were pleasant. And yet it was that air of mystery which had sparked his interest and pulled him in. Zoro himself seemed an uncomfortable fit for his chosen profession. He wasn't empty, he wasn't soulless.

Sanji looked up into Zoro's face. More than anything he'd always struck Sanji as lost and alone, but there was something new in his eyes; a sparked mixture of fear and excitement and want. Sanji knew that cocktail of feelings all too well. Zoro didn't belong to the world they were standing in, a world of dark and sadness.

Sanji's hands went to Zoro's chest and removed his waistcoat, slowly, so he could feel the hard, rippling muscle beneath the swordsman's shirt. As he unbuttoned Zoro's shirt, Zoro tugged Sanji's shirt off so that he stood half-naked. Half-naked in front of another man, fumbling to get him naked so that they could sleep together. His own mind laid out his desires so succinctly that it caused him to blush. But there was no reason to hide from it now, no reason to push the feelings away and forget that they were there. He wanted to fuck Zoro. That was why he'd come back. He had no idea how it would go, but that was all there was to it.

Zoro shrugged off his shirt and they stood together, half-undressed in Zoro's dark front room. Sanji was unable to pull his eyes away. His gaze lingered over the fine contours of Zoro's body; his toned stomach and rising chest, the scar that bit into him, his muscular shoulders and strong jaw-line. Sanji noticed Zoro do the same of him, and the flush on his cheeks reddened. He was suddenly glad of the dim light. The swordsman leaned in, but Sanji avoided his lips and they landed on his neck rather than his mouth. It tripped nerve endings and sent shivers down his spine.

He hooked a finger under one of Zoro's belt loops, and pulled. The other man came closer. Sanji stepped back, still pulling. Zoro's expression changed, and Sanji knew he understood. Zoro followed him as he moved backwards up the old, creaking stairs, looking into his eyes intently. It seemed that Zoro was as unsure of what was happening as he was.

At the top of the stairs, Sanji stopped. Zoro gave him an uncertain look, suddenly seeming tense and vulnerable. Then he realised and moved past Sanji, opening a door. He waited until Sanji was inside, and closed it behind him.

The bedroom was unlike the other rooms in the house. It had a different feel. Gone was the aura of sadness and decay, and in its place was a vibrancy of life. The bed was a bit spare but covered with a luscious, thick throw and the walls were a swirling, passionate red even in the dim light.

He turned back to Zoro. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt suddenly nervous. Zoro took a step closer to him. He felt like an idiot. Nervous about having sex. Nervous about how it would go, how it would feel, nervous about admitting to himself what he wanted, but exhilarated that Zoro wanted the same thing. He decided that he wasn't going to let nerves get the better of him or impinge on the experience. He kicked his shoes off and unzipped, stepping out of his trousers and boxers and tugging off his socks. Then he stood there, naked, in front of Zoro in Zoro's bedroom, and waited for him to make the next move.

For a moment or two, all Zoro could do was stare. Sanji had done something he hadn't expected and couldn't have anticipated. He was naked. Naked and erect in the half-light of the room. Seeing him like that was the same as a red-hot poker to the consciousness. Its effects couldn't be ignored. The voices inside were telling him that something must be wrong, that there must be some trick or some humiliation coming. Sanji knew what he was, what he did, but he was still willing. More than willing.

Zoro followed suit, and removed the rest of his clothes.

Sanji was pleased with the effects of his impromptu stripping. The bottom half of the swordsman turned out to be every bit as arousing as the top half of him. Sanji was so hard and tight for Zoro it was nearly killing him. He was closer to the bed. He was willing Zoro to come over and push him down onto it, but the other man remained frustratingly unmoving.

Zoro wanted to run over. He wanted to kick away the few feet of space between them. He wanted to hoist Sanji up and tip him back onto the bed. He wanted to lie between his legs and enter him and fuck him and please him, but those few feet of floor suddenly felt like a barrier of infinity.

"Do you…" Zoro managed. His voice was sudden in the tense atmosphere and he saw Sanji jolt slightly. "I mean, do you want to…" His nerves and his arousal had long overridden his ability to form a coherent sentence.

"What? Have sex?" Sanji retorted, sarcastically.

"Umm…yeah."

Sanji stared at him, his posture shifting from the picture of apprehension to something resembling surprised irritation. "Yes. I want to have sex with you. That is why I am here, naked, waiting for you to-"

Zoro's lips cut him off. He'd crossed the gulf and finally reached his lover. They kissed until they were both breathless, their hands making tentative but purposeful movements as they stood together, exploring one another. Sanji reached down on Zoro, hard and wet against his hip. The touch caused him to break the kiss slightly with a short sharp intake of breath. Suddenly it felt like Sanji's hands were all over, talented fingers working and massaging him. It made his body ache for release.

Then Sanji stopped, and stepped away again. He climbed onto the bed and lay down, looking up at Zoro. Zoro stared back at him. He pulled up one of his legs at the knee and leant it away, parting his thighs. The man he was supposed to kill was inviting Zoro to fuck him.

"What the hell are you waiting for, an invitation in writing?"

Sanji's irritation snapped him out of it. He got onto the bed, kneeling between Sanji's legs. He leant down and kissed the singer-cook tenderly. Sanji retaliated forcefully, hooking his strong legs around Zoro's body and pulling him down. Zoro pressed against him and spoke breathlessly against his lips. "Are you ready?"

Sanji nodded, clenching his jaw and gripping his hands in Zoro's hair and on his shoulder. He felt the tip of Zoro's cock pushing into him. The sensation was odd, and slightly sore. Zoro was looking down at him, watching his reaction to every movement. He tried his best not to let the strain show on his face as Zoro worked his way in. It still felt good to be pressed together, to feel the other man's hard muscle against him. Zoro's heartbeat was so strong Sanji could feet it through his chest. It was racing.

He tried his best to relax, even if it was uncomfortable. Zoro lay his forehead against Sanji's, and stopped. "Half-way." He said.

_Shit._

He started to move again. Sanji reached down and grabbed Zoro's buttocks, forcing a thrust until he was all the way in. He grinned "You don't have to be so gentle with me, I can take it."

"I'm going to move, then."

Zoro thrust into him, slowly at first then building up momentum. Amongst the awkwardness and discomfort, Sanji began to feel something new. A different sensation that came with every thrust and was slowly amplifying. It grew gradually until Sanji could feel nothing else. It eclipsed everything, like a blinding white light of impending pleasure.

Then Zoro stopped. Sanji's eyes snapped open and his teeth ground in frustration. "Look, if this is painful or whatever, I'll stop." Zoro said.

"Just fucking move!" Sanji spat. Zoro started to withdraw. "Where the hell are you going?" He hissed, clamping his legs around the other man to prevent his escape.

"What's with that expression?"

"It was sore, at first. But it's fine now."

"Shithead, if you're lying…"

"Fuck, you're about to make me come and you start saying all this shit? Just shut the hell up, fuck me and maybe after I'll show _you _just how good it feels."

Sanji got what he wanted - Zoro moved again, hard, fast, deep thrusts that pushed him back up to where he was, except faster his time. It felt bigger, more uncontrollable, each of Zoro's movements driving him hard towards something that promised to be incredible.

"Fuck, I'm gonna….FUCK!"

Sanji's eyebrows knitted, and his mouth dropped open. He yelled out as he came, hot against Zoro's stomach with his legs pressing and his back arching. Zoro could feel him tensing uncontrollably inside. He stopped holding back and gave in to the hot, writhing man beneath him. The orgasm was unexpectedly strong, swamping his senses and forcing him to cry out. It wasn't the few drops of pleasure he'd expected to fall on his arid soul, it was a torrent, a release that came in from everywhere and drenched him thoroughly. He lay against Sanji for a while, both of them panting until they'd recovered somewhat. Zoro withdrew and lay down beside him.

Sanji watched him breathing in the dark; lips parted and full, chest rising and falling slower with each breath. Zoro's face turned towards him, the outline of his brow and jaw silvered in the stray light. His lips parted to say something, but thought better of it and closed into a faint, satisfied smile.

Sanji traced the fingers of one hand gently over the parts of Zoro where the light landed. He responded as Sanji's touch drifted, lifting his chin as it carried slowly down his neck, stretching his torso and arching his back as it travelled further south. Sanji's fingers came to rest in the dark curls of Zoro's groin.

Then Sanji's lips were at his, slow and soft at first then harder. The fingers at his groin worked his awakening erection. Zoro slipped a hand into Sanji's curtained hair and pushed him down into the deepening kiss. Sanji broke away, kissing Zoro's chin and tracing his tongue down his neck.

Zoro felt Sanji shift, sliding a thigh in between his legs. He soon followed it with the other and lay on top, pressing his body down into Zoro's and teasing him with evasive lips. Sanji's mouth moved to his ear lobe, his tongue flicking over Zoro's three earrings. He felt the swordsman's legs spread wider beneath him, and responded by biting him roughly on the neck. Zoro drew in a sharp breath and pushed his groin up against Sanji, demanding attention.

Sanji flipped him over onto his stomach. The first time had been good, if slightly awkward. The sex was better than he'd imagined, even if it had left him with some residual soreness. He felt something thawing inside, something he hadn't allowed to see the light of day. It felt good to be with a guy. To be with Zoro.

He gazed down at the man beneath him, legs spread around him and face expectant. The first time had been good, but it hadn't been nearly enough. He'd wanted Zoro for a good long while, even before their kiss. He placed his tongue to the base of Zoro's spine and traced up, slowly, to the nape of his neck. Zoro tasted of salt and sweat and heat and want. He raised his ass against Sanji's groin, and it took all the singer's willpower not to dive deep into him. He kissed his way down Zoro's back to the top of his buttocks, then stopped.

He slid a hand underneath to tease Zoro's cock, drawing a sudden, sensitive shudder. Zoro tilted his hips to allow him better access. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Better than the girls in the magazines, and far hotter than anything he could have fantasised. Zoro was hard in both body and soul, and yet he was prostrate, lingering on every touch Sanji would give him, pleading wordlessly for more, wanting Sanji to fuck him and work him until he was done.

The touch of Sanji's tongue brought a jolt from the swordsman, accompanied by the smallest of moans that made the singer's cock ache. He pushed his tongue gently inside, keeping up a rhythm with the hand on Zoro's erection. Zoro moaned again; an open-mouthed moan of pleasure and desperation. Sanji broke, straightening up and pushing his cock deep into Zoro. He was so hard and wet and Zoro was so firm and tight there was no way he could last long. The situation became worse when he hit that place inside, that place Zoro had found in him the time before, and forced the other man to cry out. Being able to push that sound from Zoro, to drive it from him involuntarily with every thrust became his only goal. He longed for it with every movement even more than he wanted the feeling from thrusting inside. Zoro's unrestrained voice made him want to come, to lose control in orgasm and never return. He wanted to feel himself fire deep into the man beneath him.

But he wanted Zoro's orgasm more. He'd missed it the first time, too mixed up in his own pleasures. He wanted Zoro to lose control beneath him, to force him over that edge and feel him tense and release. He wanted more of that voice. But it was all too much.

Sanji stopped and withdrew, reluctantly. Zoro was up and on him in what seemed like a split second. He felt himself turned and pushed over into a kneeling position. Zoro's hot, hard cock forced inside him, thrusting hard. His hands gripped Sanji's hips tight.

A fresh heat came to his legs and groin. A heat that was even greater than before. Now he was the one crying out, begging for less and more at the same time, wanting Zoro to stop and to speed up and to wait and to go. Having Zoro inside made him selfish. Zoro's hard, thrusting cock made him want his own orgasm more than anything else in the world. So much for Zoro's voice. So much for Zoro's unbridled pleasure. Now it was all about his own. It didn't matter, there would be other times to make amends. There would be other times…

When Zoro stopped Sanji almost burst from frustration. His body was shaking from anticipation and tension. If he didn't feel a release soon it would be the end of him. Zoro's hands came under his chest and brought him up into a vertical kneeling position. A hand slipped up his chest, over his nipple to his chin. He felt Zoro's teeth nip his ear lobe. Zoro began to move again, slowly. Never before had such pleasure been such agony. Sanji felt Zoro's fingers find their way into his mouth, pressing at his tongue. His other hand connected with Sanji's cock. His thrusting stayed slow, but his hand moved quickly.

Sanji was way past his limit. The feeling was so good he almost didn't want to come, as though his every slight pleasure was Zoro's focus. He heard his own moans, increasing in intensity as Zoro brought him to the edge.

Zoro watched Sanji's face intently as he came. He cried out around Zoro's fingers, tensed in rhythm to his thrusts. When he was finished, Zoro bent him forward again and came deep inside him.

On the bedroom window condensation collected against the cool glass, beading and falling like rain.

-----------

She was drowning. He reached for her desperately but it was too dark and he couldn't find her. He tried to swim towards her, to where her coughing, spluttering noises were coming from, but he wasn't strong enough and the waves pushed him away. He fought them furiously, screaming her name out over and over. Then he stopped and tried to tread water as best he could, straining to listen against the roar of the ocean. He couldn't hear her any more.

He panicked. He didn't know what to do. He had known she couldn't swim, but they'd been doing dares and this was hers. He'd wanted her to do something really scary because he was jealous of how brave she was. He'd made her stand on her tip-toes at the very edge of the break-wall which looked out over the sea, and he'd made her do it when he knew it was high tide. The waves were fiercely choppy but she'd sidled up to it without fear, turning back to grin at him and holding her arms out, telling him how she didn't care about how much trouble they'd be in for being out so late. That was when the wave had come, crashing over the break-wall and dragging her away, her screams splitting the dark as she tumbled over in the violent waters.

He'd jumped in after her, but he couldn't see her, couldn't hear her, couldn't help her. He was always the weak one, and she was always so strong. He sobbed at his own uselessness, bobbing between the waves as his best friend in all the world was dying and he couldn't save her. He mumbled her name, drained with the effort of keeping himself afloat. A huge wave broke over his head and pushed him under, and his mouth filled with disgusting salt. He choked and his body heaved for breath but found nothing besides thick seawater. He found the surface and coughed and sobbed and screamed. Screamed for them to come and save her and to save him. He screamed again and again, desperately hoping that someone would come. In the cold, raging sea he screamed her name endlessly.

"_KUINA!_"

Eventually they had found her. They'd taken fishing boats and scoured the seas for her with lamps and flashlights, and had returned with her an hour or so later. They'd tried everything to resuscitate her. He would never forget the emergency medics pumping her tiny chest, breathing into her tiny mouth. He would never forget how cold and small and weak she looked, drenched to the bone with brown straggly hair plastered to her face, surrounded by fussing, towering adults.

All he could do was watch and cry, praying to a god he'd never bothered with before that he take his life instead of hers. He prayed for her to live, and promised that he'd never do such an awful thing again.

But she was already dead.

------------

It was the first time he'd ever woken from the nightmare and not been alone. Sanji was still there beside him, the same as when he'd gone to sleep. It seemed like just another part of the dream, a cruel twist of torment presented by his subconscious. He was suddenly afraid that the night before had been a lie, a falsehood of new feelings and reciprocated want. He turned in towards the back of the warm, gently snoring man and reached out a hand to touch him, just by the fingertips. Just to be sure that he was really there.

~*~


	9. Chapter 9

He drifted into that rosy pink space between sleeping and waking, aware only of the breath in his chest, the feel of the soft covers against his warm skin, and the vague pleasurable sensation at his right nipple.

He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the ruddy-golden light of the room. Sanji was front-on to him and propped up on his elbow, his face a picture of consternation as he gently rubbed a fingertip back and forth over Zoro's nipple. He pressed the fingertip down and lifted it again, brows furrowing. "Why do we have nipples?" He said, effectively to the nipple itself.

"What are you talking about so early in the morning?"

Sanji shot him a look. "I severely doubt it's morning any more." He said, returning to the soft brown subject of his study. "I mean, it's not like we have a use for them."

"You're weird."

"You're one to talk." Sanji scowled. Even with his features screwed together in annoyance he was ridiculously handsome, hair tousled and rough stubble showing through. "The hell are you grinning about?"

"Nothing." Zoro replied. "Maybe we're just lucky."

"Eh?"

"Nipples, remember?"

"Lucky how?"

Zoro rolled him onto his back. "Because they feel good." He played his tongue over Sanji's nipples, teasing at them gently with his teeth.

-------

Zoro woke for the second time that morning to find the bed empty. He rolled over and glanced around the room. The bottom half of Sanji's clothes, heaped in a pile the night before, were gone. He wished now that he hadn't fallen asleep again. Not that it was his fault, the blame lay with Sanji entirely.

He made a half-hearted attempt to stretch, cut short by the throbbing feeling in his ass. Whatever the pain was, it was worth it for the orgasm Sanji had given him. He remembered the feeling of the man's mouth and tongue, slow and luxurious as he pressed inside with talented fingers until Zoro came hard in his mouth. There had been something very focussed about his actions; he'd ignored all of Zoro's attempts to get him to stop or to switch positions. He'd had no choice other than allowing himself to be helpless to it. Whatever it was that felt so good inside had surprised him, almost as if the orgasm from being fucked was better than the orgasm from fucking.

The whole experience was a bit overwhelming. He couldn't have possibly predicted that Sanji would sleep with him, would actually _want _to have sex with him or share his attraction in the slightest. He couldn't have predicted how incredible it would be.

Everything felt new, like the first flush of life rising from charred earth.

He noticed a freshness to the air, and looked over at the open window. Light streamed in and lay down patches of warmth on the floor and the bed. Zoro reached a foot out to one of the light pools and flexed his toes. The warmth felt good. He suddenly became aware of the smile on his face.

As incredible as the night before and the morning after had been, their situation had become a lot more complicated.

As he got himself out of bed, he noticed the drifting, wafting aromas of something delicious, and it set his mouth watering.

-----

Sanji was at the stove, cooking eggs. He looked up as Zoro came in through the kitchen door, buttoning up a shirt and tucking it into his trousers. Zoro smiled at him in a sort of crooked, half-embarrassed way.

"Hey." He said, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and folding his arms. "Smells good."

"Eggs was all you had, so that's all there is." Sanji said, poking at the frying pan with a spatula.

"Eggs sounds great."

"Sunny-side or over-easy?"

"Eh?"

"Your eggs. With the yolk on top or fried on both sides?"

"You're asking me how I like my eggs?" Zoro said, with a grin.

Sanji straightened up and shot him a scowl. "Of course. I'm a chef, aren't I? It'd be the same for anyone, don't go thinking you're special just because…" Sanji trailed off.

"'Just because' what?"

"Over-easy." Sanji replied, handing Zoro a plate of eggs. He took it with a smile, noticing Sanji's mild blush. He pulled out a drawer and got a fork for both of them.

"'s good." He chewed.

"Of course it's good, idiot."

Zoro let out a small, gentle laugh.

"What's so funny?" Sanji asked, stopping in the middle of plating his own eggs, sunny-side up.

"Nothing." He said. "It's just that when I left you on the roadside I thought that'd be the last time I saw you; yet here you are making me breakfast…"

"I'm making _myself _breakfast, as difficult as that is in this empty crap-hole of a kitchen – it would just be rude not to offer you any."

"Uh-huh."

Sanji cut into his eggs with the fork. Rich orange yolk spilled over the plate. "How long have you been murdering people for a living?" He said, suddenly.

The bluntness of it startled Zoro. Sanji's calm manner made it seem like any other question. Zoro wished it had been any question but that one. He placed his plate carefully into the sink, and noticed that Sanji had watered the plant, still standing on the draining board. There was no reason not to answer, he supposed.

"When I was fifteen I killed a guy for the bounty on his head." He said. He leant on the sink with both hands, as though a weight had been dropped onto his shoulders. "I recognised his face from a picture I'd seen handed around the back alleys. I followed him and waited until he was alone, then I separated his head from his shoulders."

Sanji watched him as he brought a hand up, seeming to weigh something in his palm. His fingers curled up as though he was gripping one of his katana. Zoro turned back to him, face unapologetic.

"I had to eat somehow."

Zoro was having difficulty deciphering Sanji's expression. He didn't look shocked or angry, like he was expecting. "So every time I needed some money…I chose my mark and cashed them in. Eventually I stopped looking because the work found me. No matter where I go, the work always finds me."

"What are you going to do now?" Sanji said, finishing his eggs.

Zoro looked straight at him, but made no response. Sanji stared back, then sighed and relented when it became obvious he wasn't going to get anything. "I still haven't forgiven you, bastard." He said eventually. "And last night doesn't change anything. I'm still going back to the Merry, Crocodile or no."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Of course. Luffy will know what to do."

"Luffy?"

"Yeah. He always knows what to do, and somehow it always works out."

--------

Sanji pulled on his coat slowly, in a resigned way. He buttoned up the front with care and then looked up at Zoro, who was watching him with his hands in his pockets. A sort of embarrassed silence descended as they held each-other's gaze. The front room was warm from the afternoon sun.

"I should go then." Sanji said, finally.

"Yeah." Zoro said, scratching at the back of his head. He wanted to tell Sanji to be careful, but if it sounded anywhere near as stupid out of his mouth as it did in his head, that would be a bad idea.

Sanji did a sort of nod and turned to the door. Zoro caught him at the arm before his hand could reach the door handle, spinning him round and kissing him forcefully. Sanji pushed him away at the chest and brought their foreheads together.

"Stop now or I'll never leave this damn place."

"Then never leave." Zoro told him, pressing him into the door.

Sanji pushed him hard, giving himself enough time and space to yank the door open and run through it. Once on the other side he stopped, and thought for a moment about going back in. His breath hung in the cold air. He drew himself up and straightened out his coat, then set off down the road. The taste of that last kiss lingered on his lips.

Zoro heard Sanji's footsteps ringing on the chill pavement; calm and deliberate, heading away. He leant back against the door. It was as though he'd been watching the world in black and white for all these years, and suddenly it was showing in glorious Technicolor.

But there was something he had to do.


	10. Chapter 10

A bleak bank of cloud had chased away the last remnants of the day's warmth, and loomed over the early evening with the promise of bad weather. Icy gusts of wind tormented the detritus at Zoro's feet, sending dead, desiccated leaves scratching along the concrete of the dock. He could hear the sea behind him, the clamour of the breaking waves filling his ears with torrid, beckoning cries.

"So you're the man they call 'the pirate hunter', eh?" The man's voice was as deep and impressive as his stature deserved. He spoke calmly, almost softly as he regarded Zoro with careful attention to detail. Reams of cigar smoke escaped from his mouth into the chilling air. "I'm a fan of your work." He said, adjusting his massive fur coat over his broad shoulders. Any hint of a smile dropped from his features, ridden by the scar running across his face from cheek-to-cheek. "This had better be important, I'm a busy man."

A sharp sound split the air. The sound of drawn steel.

"A man of few words, I see." Crocodile laughed. "I like you even more." He put out a hand to stop his henchmen from moving, keeping the other hidden inside his coat. They retreated back against the limousine. He blew out another ream of smoke, smirking around his cigar. "What exactly do you hope to achieve?"

Zoro looked back at him coldly over the tip of his katana. He wanted to straighten things out. He wanted to make amends for all his wrongdoings, to do justice to the dead who had fallen needlessly at his hands. With Crocodile gone there was no threat to Sanji or to the Merry, and that awful woman would leave him alone. He thought of all the times Wadou had been drenched in blood, all the times he'd cleaned the stains and apologised repeatedly, and how every time no amount of cleaning or polishing seemed enough penance. It was as though he'd muddied her soul with his selfishness.

He promised her this would be the last time. For the first time since she had died, it felt as though he had something worth protecting.

The chill wind moved ripples in the thin fabric of Zoro's shirt, cooling the warm skin beneath. He felt his awareness heighten, felt that familiar prickling excitement before a fight. A drop of rain fell in front of his vision, striking the back of the blade with a small halo then gliding down, riding the edge until it fell from that, too and was lost.

Crocodile whipped a pistol from beneath his coat and aimed it squarely at Zoro's head. Zoro moved before he even had the chance to fire, diving and weaving his way towards his goal. He feigned one way and moved the other, bringing his katana up to strike Crocodile in the neck. The man dodged and the blade bit only the collar of his coat, sending sheared fur into the air.

In Zoro's mind, familiar places came to life. Places filled with darkness and pain that smothered the newly awakening regions of his soul, strangling and murdering his unnecessary feelings. It took him whole, and he allowed it. The dark was a place he could focus. In the dark, he could see clearly what he wanted. He wanted to kill.

Feeling the blade connect with Crocodile's coat was a tease. Something had been cut, but it wasn't enough. It had been so long since he'd fought anyone that his muscles had relaxed, and complained at the effort of work. He swung again, describing a wide, curving arc meant for the man's head. His muscles screamed but his body sang, eager for the hit; the bite of the blade into flesh.

Crocodile moved deftly aside, causing Zoro to tip slightly off-balance. A second without focus left him with a gun in the face. He dropped and rolled, his ears ringing with the noise of the weapon exploding above his head. He kicked out, his foot ramming hard into the other man's ankle. Crocodile stumbled and Zoro saw his chance, lifting Wadou up to deliver the final blow.

A hand caught his wrist, from behind. The darkness inside him boiled. He slammed his head back into the henchman's face, making the man squeal and release him. Zoro twisted his torso, amplifying the force carrying Wadou. The blade bit into the man's body, tearing through his flesh and snicking through his ribs from belly to shoulder. One strike and it was all over. The man had a familiar look of disbelief tattooed across his bloodied features as he hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Zoro turned with perfect timing to drive his katana into the gut of the other henchman, glancing off his spine. He held Zoro's gaze as his blood stained the swordsman's hands, and found nothing but empty rage. Zoro tore his blade out through the man's side, watching Crocodile carefully. He was laughing.

"You know, I'd really rather not kill someone as talented as you. It would be such a waste."

Zoro could barely remember why he was there. The thrill of the fight had blinkered him. He was vaguely aware of the clinging damp of his shirt and the cold, but these were inconsequential details. He could taste the metallic tang in the air, could feel the sticky, cooling blood on his hands. He raised his katana again.

Crocodile sighed. "I see the time for reaching an agreement has passed." He raised the gun. The pirate hunter ran at him again, with incredible speed. He knew there were few things to stop a man so focussed. He remembered the stories he'd heard about the swordsman; how he was clean and merciless and unstoppable, almost demonic. He'd been a good and useful subordinate, but that time was over. The only way to deal with a dog that turned round to bite its owner was to put it down. He watched the swordsman's movements carefully.

He'd chosen his target. Slice at the belly and spear the neck; that usually brought them down nice and easy. He trailed Wadou, keeping it low to drive it up. But he'd noticed too late that the other man had predicted his movements, and again the blade met nothing but air. Something hard and metallic smashed into his face and sent him sprawling over the dock. The other man was quicker than he had expected, and stronger. Warm blood escaped down his face from a gash above his eyebrow, and his head swam from the impact.

As Zoro collected himself Crocodile wasted no time in aiming the gun. A uniquely arrogant smile came to his lips as he fingered the trigger. The pirate hunter had turned out to be such a disappointment.

But the gun hadn't fired in quite the way he'd anticipated. Suddenly his arm was pointing skyward and his wrist was complaining from a force that had come from beneath. The assailant was beside him, fixing him with broad grin and grounding the foot that had kicked the gun away.

"I should've known you'd do something stupid, asshole." The man shouted over his shoulder to the fallen swordsman, stepping quickly, cautiously away.

That voice.

Rich and smooth as butter-cream, it forced a light into Zoro's soul and broke his focus. He remembered himself, suddenly feeling exhausted. It was a voice he wished was half a world away from the cold, bloodied concrete of the dock and the screaming, circling seagulls. He stood as quickly as he could. The rain was starting to fall. "What the hell are you doing here?" He said, wiping at the blood on his brow with his shirt-sleeve. The surprise and worry were obvious in his tone.

"Shut up bastard, it's a free country and you're easy to follow." Sanji stalked over, hands in his trouser pockets, and stood beside Zoro. He saw Sanji look from his bloodied hands to the two fallen henchmen and felt his guts wrench. He wished the rain would fall harder and wash it all away.

Sanji eyed Crocodile carefully and pulled the cigarette from his lips, crushing it into the sodden floor.

"Well if this isn't a pleasant development." Crocodile grinned. The look was unsettling. "Though I had hoped the next time I'd see you would be on a missing persons report."

"_You shouldn't be here._" Zoro muttered under his breath.

"Neither should you, and I'm still waiting for a _thank you_ for saving your ass."

It was clear that Sanji had come to fight. His body was stiff, his eyes focussed on Crocodile. Zoro had never fought beside anyone before.

"If we're going to do this we should go at him together. Just don't get in my way."

Sanji looked at him sideways and shot him a smirk. "Likewise," He said.

A shot.

The sudden, harsh noise resounded off the concrete and the derelict buildings surrounding the dock.

Sanji dropped beside him.

Another gun.

A panic took seat in Zoro's gut. An old panic built of guilt and fear and loss.

Everything slowed. He looked up to Crocodile. The man was laughing. Laughing as he held the gun that had shot Sanji. Laughing as the rain soaked his hair and his coat.

The world heaved, and Zoro stumbled. The rage and the darkness sifted away, leaving him utterly alone. A pool of dark blood was spreading beneath Sanji, mixing with the steadily falling rain. He wasn't moving. Only a moment ago he had been so full of bravado.

Zoro dropped to his knees, Wadou clattering to the floor. He slipped his arms beneath Sanji and hoisted him up, the blood from his hands staining the singer's shirt. Sanji's head fell lifeless against his chest.

_He's going to die._

He stood. His legs were jelly but he begged them to be strong, just strong enough that they could make it out. He ran in the only direction he knew would be an escape.

_I'm going to lose him._

He reached the edge of the dock and wavered. The sea lay beneath, foaming and crashing, dark and angry.

_I can't do this again. _

He wanted to leap into it and swim away, but he was too afraid. Always too weak and afraid to do the right thing.

He gasped for breath against the panic and adrenaline and gritted his teeth. He looked down at the man heavy and lifeless in his arms, gripping him tight. He had to save Sanji, and this was the only way. If he waited too long, or if he stayed to fight, there was no way he'd make it. It was the only way, he told himself, looking into the cold abyss. The only way…

The bullets tore their way through his chest, first one then the other in quick succession, his body exploding with pain. He teetered on the brink, trying to steady himself, then tipped forward into the violent waters.

The cold wrapped around his body. The force from the rolling, thrashing waves punched the wind from him and the salt poked cruel, sharp fingers into his gunshot wounds. He realised in the maelstrom that he'd lost hold of Sanji. He came awake again and shot out grasping hands, trying desperately to find him through the pain. His reaching fingers connected only with the cold, viscous dark of his nightmares.

Everything was lost.

_It's all my fault_

He hadn't realised just how much he'd begun to hope.

_He's going to die and it's all my fault_

He opened his mouth to scream into the void and the eager waters rushed in. The darkness was so unbearably painful after being shown a glimpse of the light.

-----

"_CROCODILE!_"

The shout caused the man to pause getting into his limousine. In the rain stood an odd, drenched suited figure wearing a straw hat, fists balled and teeth gritted in determination. He was joined by a number of others. Circumstance had provided an excellent opportunity to get rid of the entire Going Merry staff.

~*~


	11. Chapter 11

Cold, screaming dark. Freezing water stabbed needle-like at his flesh, deadening his senses. He gave up, allowing himself to be torn apart by the waves.

~*~

He was whole again, and forced to re-live it. His body was small and weak amongst the rolling waters, and there was nothing he could do. He screwed his eyes shut, afraid that he would see her dead, drifting body. Afraid that he would come face-to-face with what he'd done.

~*~

He was grown this time, but still small and weak against the pounding ocean. The more he fought the more it drove him down, chilled him and sucked the life from him. A flash of white in the darkness; he reached for it desperately, feeling elated for a mere moment when he touched it then desolate when he found it was only an empty shirt.

~*~

He was being sucked down. The worst part of the nightmare; the fear of what was waiting at the bottom. He felt terror and swam with all his might, feeling his lungs scream for air as the massive black vortex pulled him in. Usually he could escape it, or hold off just long enough for it to disappear. This time he didn't have the strength. The abyss swallowed him whole.

~*~

The water was still. He was drifting silently just beneath the surface. The sea wasn't the black he was used to, but instead a pale greeny-blue as though from his childhood drawings. He twisted his body and swam upwards, breaking the surface easily and heaving in great gasps of breath. His face felt cold at first, then warmer as he looked towards the sun. It was bright and massive in the sky, spreading an orange-red glow over the water.

It was a very odd place. He found that he could stand on the surface of the sea, and pulled himself out. He didn't trust it, and dipped his bare toes into it to test it. There was something firm underneath, as though the sea bottom had risen up to meet him, but it didn't feel sandy. He reached down, trying to dig the water out of the way so he could see what was beneath. It was then that he noticed he was a child again. He raised his dripping hands to study them, turning them over in front of his face.

There was an island not far off, made of sand and palm-trees. Its foliage was too green and its beach too golden for it to be natural. He saw the palm-fronds moving and realised there was a pleasant, warming breeze to the air. It smelled of colouring pencils.

She was sitting out on the sea a little way out from the island, in between him and it. She was playing Army with some soldier toys he'd lent her because her parents wouldn't let her have any. He walked over to her, feet slapping into the water, and crouched down.

"Pass me the General." She told him, holding out her hand without looking up from her arrangement of artillery. He picked up the little tin soldier with the bright colours she wanted and placed it into her palm. She brandished the miniature man above the other soldiers and put on a deeper voice, tucking her brown bobbed hair behind her ear. "They might attack today, they might attack next week, but we can't be caught off-guard! Ready yourselves, men!" She leaned back and folded her arms triumphantly.

Zoro inspected her troops. They were all perfectly ordered Union soldiers from the civil war, standing to attention in their painted blue uniforms. He noticed the cavalry hiding behind her leg. "Maybe we should go and play on the island." He suggested.

She looked up at him. "Why? I've just got everything set up."

He went to pick up a cannon, but she slapped his hand away with a sharp 'tut'. He looked around. "It'll just be…safer." He said, hunching his shoulders forward.

"We can't go back there, we're here now."

"We can just set everything up again, it won't take long with the two of us, and we can make some Enemies from sticks and stones and stuff."

"Nah."

"There might even be rabbits." He grinned, rocking up onto his tip-toes. "It'll be more fun, come on."

"It's not somewhere we can go back to." She told him, sternly. He suddenly felt sad. She watched his expression as he looked around.

"What are you so afraid of?" She asked.

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes you are."

"I just don't want to fall back in. I don't like it"

"It's just water, don't be such a baby."

"How can you say that!"

"What?"

"That it's just water. _Just water_."

She patted her hand into the water beside her, sending small splashes up into her lap. He felt cool spray land on his face. "But it is, look."

"Stop that."

"Why?"

She patted the water harder, and the ripples grew.

"Because it's dangerous!"

"How is _this_ dangerous?"

The water around her had become turbulent. He could see swirling currents and eddies forming, the waves beginning to rise. "_Stop it_!" He screamed. She stared back at him, puzzled. He was terrified. It was as though she couldn't see the danger all around her.

"Kuina _please_!" He begged, launching himself forwards and gripping her arms. But she persisted, thumping her fist harder and harder into the water as the turbulence grew.

"Ew, gross." She shrugged him off. "What are you so afraid of?" She persisted, looking him straight in the eye.

"The water…it's dangerous when it's like that. You could get pulled under."

"So?"

"'_So?_' Just come on, please…"

"No."

"You have to move!"

"No, I don't want to."

"Kuina you have to _move_!" He screamed, tears welling in his eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him and shook her head. "If you don't move you'll die! Please!"

"Why will I die?" She asked him, just as calm as always.

"Because the water will get you and you'll drown!"

"Why did I die, Zoro?"

"The sea! The sea killed you!"

The water around her was calm again. She held her hand hovering above the still surface of the water, then placed it in her lap with the other. Zoro stood quietly before her, tears of shock running down his cheeks. He sniffed them back and wiped his eyes hurriedly on his arm.

"It was an accident." She said, making small adjustments to her rows of men. "I died in the sea. It wasn't my fault, or yours, or anyone else's." He sat back down and hugged his knees.

"But it was my idea-" He started. She stopped him.

"It was no-one's fault."

He cried into his knees. "If it wasn't my fault then why do I feel so guilty?"

"Because you're a stupid-head." She said, decisively. "Only an idiot like you could feel guilty for something they didn't do."

"Shut up." He said, frowning.

She grinned. It faded quickly into irritation. "Have you forgotten what we promised?" She was mad at him, now. Her nose wrinkled and her lips pouted.

"What do you mean?"

"When we talked before, at our Secret Place. Don't tell me you've forgotten already."

"Of course I haven't!" He yelled at her.

"Then remember what we promised! Tell me what we promised when I thought I'd have to move away for daddy's work!"

"We promised we'd never forget each other!"

"What else?"

"That we'd always write!"

"What _else_, Zoro…"

"We promised that we'd always be happy, even if we were far away!"

"And _are_ you happy?"

His hands were larger. Everything was larger. Kuina was looking up at him as though nothing was different, arms folded, awaiting his response.

The sun was setting, spreading shades of deep red across the calm sea and gracing its surface with glittering, shimmering whorls. His shadow cast across his best friend and her miniature army.

"Perhaps…" He said eventually. He wasn't used to his voice being so deep.

She closed her eyes and nodded, looking like a tiny, wise Buddha.

He scratched the back of his neck. "But what if I wake up and it's all gone?"

She opened one eye and squinted at him. "You're still afraid?" She sighed. "You're a crappy grown-up."

"Shut up." He told her, with little sense of irony.

"There's only one way to find out, scaredy-cat."

"I know," He smiled, and drew in another breath of his childhood. She smiled back.

~*~

So, umm, Beneath has been nominated for the 'The Readers Have Chosen' monthly poll-thing…thanks hugely to whoever is guilty of that, it's an honour to get recommended (it's not even finished yet, the ending could be terrible). The list of recs can be found here: http:// thereadershavechosen. eternflame. com/ forum/ index. php? topic= 1491.0 (remove the spaces) so check it out, there's some great reading there.


	12. Chapter 12

_Tick. Tock._

The sound was gentle; almost a lullaby.

_Tick. Tock._

It was the sound of a clock without hurry, calmly counting the passage of time without judgment for how it was spent. The sound was reassuring. One moment would always proceed into another, each falling between the movements of that second-hand. He let his mind linger on it as it took him gently from one moment to the next, allowing the minutes to drift past.

Something punctured his safe, waking dream. A deep and painful longing for someone who felt just out of reach.

Eventually he surfaced, feeling the heavy, pressing ache in his chest. He remembered the cold and the wet and the pain. He remembered Sanji; the feeling of him, his warmth, his breath. The weight of his limp body in the pouring rain. His mind told him the ache wasn't merely physical.

_Still alive, as much as that's worth. _

His eyes opened sluggishly, reluctantly. Someone was there, in the room with him. She was wearing reading glasses, red hair tied up and poring over a thick book, sitting right beside him. He made an involuntary movement and flinched in pain. She looked up, face full of delighted surprise.

"You're awake!" She said softly, smiling and placing her hand over his. She felt warm. "How are you feeling?"

"I…I don't know yet." He said, uselessly. He felt groggy and sore, above anything else. Nami laughed gently. "What happened?" He asked, blinking his eyes to clear them.

He was spread out on a sofa, covered carefully with blankets and heavily bandaged. The room was cluttered but warm. He imagined it was probably an office in the Going Merry.

"You almost drowned. Sanji managed to drag you out of the sea and get you on the dock. He looked after you; got you breathing again. Chopper took care of the rest." She said, pointing at his chest, bound tightly with bandages and dressings. "You've been out cold for days." She added, peering at him over the rims of her glasses.

"Sanji…"

"Oh, he's fine. He was up and around pretty quickly afterwards. Chopper said he'd been much luckier than you, and the bullet hadn't hit anything vital. Just left him in shock until you revived him with icy sea water. _You_ had a collapsed lung in addition to being shot in the back..." She teased, but he could see the concern hidden behind her smile.

_He's fine_

Something rode up inside him, but he bit it back before it overwhelmed him. "Shouldn't I be in a hospital?"

She pursed her lips. "You were, until the cops started sniffing about. Sanji told us about your…uh… past, so Chopper got you discharged and we brought you here to recover."

Zoro stared at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.

"Crocodile?" He said, eventually.

"Luffy beat the crap out of that bastard." She beamed. He smiled despite himself.

_Everything's fine_

"_And _they've arrested him. About time..." She was looking at him again. "You were an idiot to go up against him alone."

"Mmmh." He managed, half-listening. He was tired and sore, but warm and somewhat comfortable. He felt himself slipping under again, dream-visions dancing in front of his eyelids.

A lonely park bench, out in the dark. A cold, empty, broken-down house. The man he used to be.

He forced his eyelids open, and felt a little embarrassed when he realised she'd been watching him.

"Why are you doing all this?" He asked.

"What, taking care of you?" She replied, a little bemused. "This is what you do for your friends."

He stared back at her, blinking.

"If you want to see Sanji he's just out there, with the rest of them." She said, gesturing at the door. "He's been in here as often as he can. He was the one that wanted us to take turns sitting with you when he couldn't in case you woke up." She stirred suddenly, getting to her feet from the little stool she'd been using. "Speaking of which, I'd better tell them you're awake."

As Nami opened the door and left, Sanji's voice flooded in.

_Bright before me the signs implore me  
To help the needy and show them the way_

_Human kindness is overflowing _

_And I think it's going to rain today_

Suddenly everything inside him released, breaching the carefully-constructed dams he'd held fast for so many years. Emotions long forgotten and left to gather dust surged forwards anew, joining the flooding relief welling up inside him.

The man he loved and had thought dead was alive and well. The people he'd refused to trust had come to save him and called him friend.

Amongst the ancient receipts, stacked books and various junk of the office, Zoro forgave himself, relinquishing his hold on his jealously-guarded grief.

_Fill your existence with people you love_

_Walk forward with pride_

He covered his face with his hands as hot tears streaked his cheeks.

No more running. No more hiding from everything that meant something.

He was finally home.


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"I always knew."

"Knew what?"

"That you were a bounty hunter."

"Uh-huh."

"I can tell these things, I have a keen sense of people."

"Right."

"It's like a sixth-sense. They don't call me Captain Usopp for nothing, you know."

"Who calls you that?"

"My eight thousand followers."

"Is that a lie?"

"Wha-? No! Of course not! I have over eight thousand followers, so you'd better not mess with me."

"I think you're lying. I can tell, because I have a keen sense of people."

Sanji sauntered over to the bar and pulled up a barstool beside Zoro. A new, more comfortable barstool. To go with the rest of the new furniture from the bar's facelift, all thanks to the investment of Zoro's ill-gotten gains.

"Turn up the radio, Usopp." He said, lighting a cigarette.

"…County Court judgment today sentencing the man known only as 'Crocodile' to life imprisonment after he was found guilty of fraud, embezzlement and blackmailing a government official…"

"Good riddance to bad rubbish." Nami called from behind them.

The Thousand Sunny's door swung open, revealing an attractive woman with long, black hair wearing an enigmatic smile.

"I hear you're hiring new staff." She said.

~Fin~


End file.
